


For the Love of a Child

by negativechappy



Category: N/A - Fandom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-16
Updated: 2016-11-16
Packaged: 2018-08-31 07:02:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 39,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8568802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/negativechappy/pseuds/negativechappy





	1. An Infinite Number of Possibilities

He had come here prepared to die.

Ambassador Spock of Vulcan, once Captain Spock of Starfleet, and before that, simply Spock cha’Sarek of the House of Surak, sat the helm of his experimental ship. The ship had been sucked through a wormhole in space and time and was now—Spock was not certain. There would be time later to consult star charts and databases—assuming that he lived for longer than the next ten minutes.

Spock was not afraid to die. That was not simply a philosophical assumption; it was the truth. He’d already died once—a long time and place ago, at the hands of a madman called Khan. But he’d been brought back to life by a series of fortunate events—and through the love and determination of James T. Kirk, his commanding officer, his best friend, his brother, his mate. Even now, in mortal danger, Spock spared a moment to miss Jim Kirk. T’hy’la—perhaps I will find you now. Now he was in a different universe, perhaps similar in some ways to the one he’d know, perhaps completely alien in every way. He had no way of knowing if there was a Starfleet in this universe, if Vulcan even existed or if his people had destroyed themselves a thousand years before Surak was alive to offer enlightenment. Perhaps the Romulans ruled here; perhaps the Klingons had finally defeated their old foes. All available research on space/time continuums indicated that there were an infinite number of possibilities. Spock probably would not have time to find out which possibilities this universe held, and that saddened him. Kaiidth. What was, was—even here in this strange new universe.

Spock looked at his view-screen, seeing the Romulan ship waiting for him, the ship commanded by the renegade Nero, filling the screen. Nero’s ship had gone through the worm hole first, and Spock did not doubt that however much time had passed, Nero had been waiting right here, waiting for Spock, waiting for the one who had failed in his quest to save Nero’s planet, the one Nero blamed for the death of his wife, his child, and his people.

Nero’s hatred of Spock was illogical—Spock had not created the conditions that had led to the Romulans’ star going super-nova. However, he had promised to save a world—and he had failed. For that reason, Spock could not blame Nero for wanting to see him dead. At the same time, if he could, he needed to stop Nero from killing others, from taking his vendetta to this parallel universe and destroying missions of lives in an attempt to balance some equation that could never be reconciled.

The console signaled an incoming message and with resignation, Spock hit the switch, seeing Nero’s grim and tattooed visage appear.

“Spock,” Nero hissed. “How wonderful—at last. I have waited for you so patiently, and at last you are here. Now my revenge will be complete.”

Spock stared back at the maddened features. “Kill me as is your desire,” he replied calmly. “I have no fear of the final darkness.”

Nero grinned, broken and blackened teeth only adding to his sinister looks.

“Oh, I have no intention of killing you, Spock—not now,” he sneered. “No, I intend to capture you and take you along on a pleasant little voyage to a planet called Vulcan.” He laughed at the look in Spock’s eyes. “Oh, yes—it’s here, and it’s filled with mealy-mouthed, lying pacifist Vulcans—vermin whom I will slaughter. My ship has a marvelous little device on-board—a phaser-fueled drill that will split Vulcan apart. And you will stand on the bridge of my ship and watch, Spock, watch all those Vulcans die. If the gods are truly kind, your mind will be able to hear their screams of fear and agony. Only then will you have truly paid for what you did to my planet and my people!” Nero glared at him “And when the pain and grief have driven you mad, when there is no light left in the galaxy, only then will you have my permission to die,” he finished softly.

Spock’s heart went cold in his side. “You cannot have any quarrel with the Vulcans of this universe,” he argued. “You cannot logically hold them responsible for what…”

“I hold you responsible!” Nero screamed, face flushing emerald. “You, Spock, you! I will see you die in mortal agony, carrying the katras of three billion Vulcans with you! I…”

“Commander!” The cry came from off-screen, off to Nero’s left. He frowned and glanced away from Spock. Even at this angle, Spock saw the horror on his face. He quickly switched his own view screen to a shot outside his ship—and there it was, bearing down on Nero’s ship. It was a Federation starship; Spock could not be mistaken about that. The design was familiar, not identical to one in his Starfleet, but close enough. By uping the magnification on his screen, Spock could make out the name on the saucer—USS Kelvin. There was a brilliant flash of light as Nero’s ship fired on the new vessel.

Spock’s ships carried no weapons except for red matter—and he could not risk imploding that here. He sat and watched, horrified, as the Kelvin and Nero’s ship destroyed each other. In les than ten minutes, it was over. Nero, his crew, and all the Starfleet officers and crew of the Kelvin were nothing more than atoms scattered across the quadrant.

Spock bowed his head in silence for a long time, mourning so many useless deaths, including Nero’s. One more time, Spock accepted the burden of failing to save the Romulan home world—and then he put it aside. Logic dictated that he survive, and in order to do so, he must learn about this brave new universe. His fingers danced over the console, calling up various data links. Fortunately, the universe had a ‘Net with safety guards that were no match for the only individual in Starfleet with an A-7 computer rating. His ship floating peacefully, Spock read far into the night, seeing the parallels and differences between this universe and his—and learning about the USS Kelvin and its now-dead commander—one George Samuel Kirk.

 

 

Six Months Later

 

Orphanages still existed.

Even on 23rd century Earth, there were occasionally children who had no family. Life expectancy was somewhere around 130 years and many diseases had been conquered, but once in a great while, a woman died in childbirth, and the same random factors occasionally meant that the father of the child she bore was also deceased.

Such was the case of one James Tiberius Kirk, the posthumous child of Captain George Kirk of Starfleet and his wife, Commander Winona Kirk.

Everyone at St. Diana’s orphanage in Des Moines, Iowa knew little Jim’s story. His mother had been serving aboard the USS Kelvin with her husband, but the ship’s CMO had sent her back to Earth for the last two months of a difficult pregnancy. Unfortunately, she had barely arrived and settled into an apartment before going into labor at least six weeks early. James had been born premature and frighteningly small, and despite all that the doctors could do, Winona Kirk barely had time to name her son after both his grandfathers before she bled to death in the delivery room.

There was worse to come.

Starfleet immediately attempted to contact Captain George Kirk aboard the Kelvin—but the Kelvin wasn’t there. It took more than three weeks for the final message capsule launched by the Kelvin to be picked up, with its fragmented images of a large and hostile ship and a decisive battle, as well as the captain’s final log entry. Starfleet determined that George Kirk had died the very day his son was born on Earth—the very day his wife had died.

Naturally, Starfleet officials had immediately made the tiny Kirk baby a ward of the Federation, and an exhaustive search was mounted to find any living relatives. But other than a ne’er-do-well half-brother of Winona’s, one Frank Carlson, whose current whereabouts were unknown, there was no one. Accordingly, little Jim Kirk was placed at St. Diana’s.

The staff confidently expected that Jim would be adopted—but one possible set of parents after another refused him. He was skinny; he was allergic to almost everything; he had rashes from his allergies and he cried constantly. When he wasn’t crying, he lay nearly unresponsive in his crib, huge blue eyes looking at nothing. If the staff hadn’t known better, many of them would have sworn the baby was depressed, that somehow he knew why he was alone. But regardless of why he was the way he was, the weeks went by and Jim lay in his crib, not dying but certainly not thriving. The staff did all they could, but Jim simply didn’t respond as expected. It was worrisome, to say the least.

 

The nurse escorted the visitor through the halls of St. Diana’s, shooting curious looks at the tall, cloaked figure whenever she thought he wasn’t watching her. It was rare for a single man alone to come looking to adopt a child—same-sex couples, of course, but not usually one man. It was even more rare for a Vulcan to come looking for a human child to adopt—everyone knew that Vulcans loved children, but they usually adopted from among their own species. Finally, this solo male Vulcan had to be at least 160 Standard years old. Of course, Vulcans lived much longer than humans, but still; it was an odd age for someone to decide he wanted a baby. However, this—the nurse raked her brain for the name—ah, yes, Selik—had passed all the screenings and had all the right paperwork, so it wasn’t her business what he did. It was her business to show him the available babies and young children. There were seven available at this time, all between the ages of six months and two years. The nurse motioned towards a door.

“This way, sir,” she said courteously. She punched in a code and the doors opened into the nursery, a bright and sunny room with murals of animals on the walls and plenty of mobiles and toys to stimulate young brains. The aide on duty nodded from her chair, where she sat with a toddler girl in her lap, reading a story.

“I…I’m not sure what type of child you’d like,’ the nurse said, “but there’s a darling little boy, Gary, just over a year old and…”

“No, I thank you,” the Vulcan said politely but with an unmistakable note of command in the deep, soft voice. “I know precisely who I seek.” He moved with long strides across the room to the crib by the wall, the nurse scurrying to keep up, taken aback when she realized he was making his way straight to Jim Kirk’s crib, where the baby lay whimpering softly, as he so often did.

“Um, sir, Mr. Selik, I’m not sure that Jimmy is the right prospect. I mean, he’s such a heartbreaking little tyke; his story’s so sad, but he is…well, he’s sick a lot and he…I mean, his crying, even for those of us who are trained to bear it…”

She was talking to the air. The old Vulcan stood at the side of the crib, looking down at the sickly, scabby, unhappy morsel of humanity that lay there. He pushed back the cowled hood of his cloak to reveal a lined, noble face and a head full of silver hair, as well as two elegantly pointed ears. Pitch-black eyes stared down into large blue ones, and Jim ceased his fretful whining. Clever, long-fingered hands reached into the crib and carefully, tenderly lifted the tiny body, holding it close to a warm chest. Little Jimmy Kirk actually cooed as the Vulcan cradled him in his arms, snuggling closer to that soothing warmth. Within moments, he was asleep in Selik’s arms, a faint smile on the tiny, pinched face.

The old Vulcan looked at the nurse, who was frankly staring as the nursery’s problem child slept like a little angel in Selik’s arms.

“This one,” Selik said, gently but firmly. “We will complete the paperwork, and I will take him home—today.”


	2. Setting up a Nursery

Selik made a final trip to the air car, loading Jim’s possessions and baby-care paraphernalia. The orphanage had been most generous, providing Selik with clothing and beddings, diapers, formula, a car safety pod, even a poly-stuffed ursine. None of that, however, was important. Jim was important.

 

“That’s it.” Dr. Lacey, the orphanage’s director, initialed the final document, and his secretary notarized it. She picked up the pile of papers and said to Selik, “I’ll get you copies of these, sir.” She left, and Lacey looked at the elderly Vulcan.

“He’s all yours, Mr. Selik,” he said. “Of course, the final court papers will have to be filed in six months, after a series of home visits by the social services workers and psychologists. But I’m sure that will be nothing more than a formality.” Lacey wasn’t just being polite—Vulcans simply did not do child abuse. This oddly regal old man would take excellent care of the Kirk baby; Lacey had no doubt of that.

Selik inclined his head. “I thank you for your assistance,” he replied, “and I will of course comply with all necessary procedures.” He glanced at the chair by his side, where Jim Kirk slept in a tiny basket lined in quilted plaid fabric. Selik rose to his feet and picked up the basket; Jim, the fussiest baby in the history of St. Diana’s, never stirred. Selik looked down at the tiny bundle, the center of his universe.

“Now, if you will excuse me,” he said, “I would like to take my son home.”

 

When Selik had realized that he was going to have to make his home in this universe, he’d set about carefully crafting an identity. It had not been terribly difficult; this universe was large, with tens of billions of people in the Federation, and his hacking skills were legendary. He’d painstakingly inserted himself into various public records, creating a personal history that would hold up to virtually any scrutiny. He knew he’d have to be able to make a living, so he gave himself an excellent educational record, including PhDs in physics, applied mathematics, and computers. It wasn’t lying, Selik thought to himself; he had all of these credentials, after all—he’d simply neglected to bring his transcripts with him through the worm hole.

Once he’d established his bona-fides, Selik set about obtaining employment, becoming an online instructor in computers and physics for several Terran universities. Online instruction was ideal, since he could do it wherever he was, and since Vulcans needed very little sleep, he could teach a half-dozen classes simultaneously, thereby obtaining the income he needed. Selik rented a small apartment in San Francisco first, and then as his finances quickly improved, he bought a modest house on the edge of Chinatown.

All this time, he laid the groundwork for his adoption of Jim Kirk. Bureaucracy was irritating in any reality, but Selik was patient, even though he hated the thought of Jim living in an institution for any length of time. Selik had threaded his way through the thicket of red tapes and applications and now, he’d reached his goal. On this cool, sunny day in late September, James Tiberius Kirk cha’Selik left St. Diana’s for the last time, beginning a new life.

 

The trip from Des Moines to San Francisco took just over an hour by air-car. Jim slept the whole way, tucked securely into his safety pod in the rear of the car. Just as they reached the outskirts of the city, Jim awoke. He whimpered briefly, confused by his surroundings, but Selik heard him at once.

“It is all right, kan-bu,” Selik said soothingly. “We are nearly home, and you will have a warm bottle. Do not fret; you are safe with me.”

Jim quieted as he heard that deep, rumbling voice. Still tucked in his pod, he waved his tiny hands and cooed at Selik’s back as the air-car made its final approach to Selik’s house. He parked and got out of the car, opening the rear door and freeing Jim from the pod's webbing and restraints, lifting him out and holding him close once more, bending to brush his lips across the tiny forehead, which was still scabbed over from Jim’s latest attack of hives. But that didn’t matter; nothing could change the utter joy of this moment, the flood of love in Selik’s heart. Jim cooed and kicked as he felt the warm reassurance of strong arms and a father’s love surrounding him.

“Come, small one,” Selik murmured. “Come and see your new home.”

 

Once he had Jim and all of his belongings unloaded from the car, Selik dealt with the most important matters first—a fresh diaper and a bottle of formula. Jim ate, but not with any great enthusiasm. Selik made a mental note to look into the component ingredients of human baby formula and see if he could develop something more palatable. In addition, he had read extensively on the care and feeding of human infants, and the experts indicated that James was approaching the age when solid foods should be introduced, so Selik resolved to make that experiment as well. Jim was too thin, and Selik intended to remedy that as soon as possible. First, however, there was another experiment to make.

Selik lifted Jim into his arms and walked out of the kitchen and into the living room, settling in a new rocking chair he’d had delivered just before he’d gone to get Jim, having read that many human infants found rocking motions to be soothing. The afternoon sun was shining through the window. Jim rested his head against Selik’s chest and blinked as he felt the warm sunlight on his face, coupled with the warm arms securely wrapped around him. The tiny body relaxed, and Selik began to rock. In a few minutes, when he felt Jim was completely comfortable, Selik shifted him slightly in his arms, reaching out with careful fingers that settled on the small face, over the psi points. This would be a delicate and perhaps fraught procedure, but Selik suspected the basis of at least some of Jim’s developmental problems might be discovered through a meld, so he carefully, delicately approached the tiny mind, feeling Jim’s trust as Selik’s thoughts touched his.

The old Vulcan took a deep breath as he ‘felt’ Jim in his mind. His one worry had been that this tiny soul would be identical to that of his t’hy’la—Selik had not been certain he could bear that pain. But the universe was wiser than that—there were many similarities, enough so Selik would have recognized this small individual among billions, but the two James Kirks were not identical. Feeling more confident, Selik continued to wend his way through Jim’s mind, and he soon confirmed the suspicions he’d been carrying.

Most human healers did not realize just how ‘conscious’ newborns were. Vulcans were wiser—they understood that a trauma at birth, even if not consciously understood or remembered, could scar a child for years. For that reason, every Vulcan birth was attended by a mind healer whose responsibilities included monitoring the new mind and soul as it entered the world.

Jim was not a Vulcan, but he was sensitive, his mind carrying the potential for both empathic and telepathic abilities on a limited scale. With such a vital and dynamic mind, he’d been unavoidably exposed to his mother’s pain and fear in those last moments of her life. Naturally, a newborn could not comprehend such depths of pain, such a psychic overload. Jim had not understood his mother’s death—he had simply carried the echoes of that pain all these months, and it had contributed to the developmental problems common to premature babies. As Selik explored those links, he was frankly amazed at Jim’s strength—many infants would have been so totally overwhelmed that they would have simply died—and those who cared for them would have assumed it was a simple failure to thrive, never suspecting the truth.

Selik was abidingly grateful for those months he’d spent at Gol so many decades ago—the masters had given him the tools he would need to help Jim now. It was important that he not remove those half-understood memories and echoes—such a choice would cripple Jim emotionally. However, the psychic impact of Winona’s death could be muted, the neural pathways that had been seared by the pain of her final moments could be soothed and healed. Slowly and carefully, Selik set out to do just that, feeling Jim responding to him eagerly, feeling their minds and souls come together in perfect communion. Using the lightest of mental touches, Selik bathed the psychic wounds with love and reassurance, wrapping the traumatic memories and feelings in layer after layer of calm, reassuring affection. Jim would still be able to access those memories, but hopefully, they would no longer torture the tiny, developing mind and soul.

It was dusk when Selik finally emerged from the meld. Jim slept in his arms, truly at peace with the universe for the first time since his birth. Selik held him closer and kissed the tiny brow yet again.

“You cannot understand all of this now, small one,” he half-murmured, half-thought, “but that does not matter. All you need know at this time is that I love you with all that I am; you are the child of my heart and soul. You will never lack for anything I can give you; I will ensure that you are never alone again. Sleep, k’diwa. Sleep and grow strong and well.”

James Kirk cha’Selik spent the first night in his new home cradled in Selik’s arms, rocked in the new chair, safe and warm and happy.

 

Selik looked up from his padd as Jim giggled, a tiny smile crossing the Vulcan’s face. Jim lay on his back in the middle of the living room floor, a thick quilt beneath his body, the sun warm on him as he waved his hands and feet in the air, giggling again as a sandpaper tongue licked his toes.

In the three weeks and two days since Selik had brought Jim home, the infant’s condition had improved dramatically. Selik had suspected that many of Jim’s allergic reactions had been psychosomatic, the result of the stresses on his mind that he could not properly process. Now that his mind was at peace, so was his body. The rashes were gone, replaced by flawless golden skin imbued with that unique baby softness that even the best manufacturers of moisturizing creams could not duplicate. He had been all but bald when Selik had found him at the orphanage, but now soft ringlets of corn silk-blonde hair were growing all over his head. His ocean-blue eyes were bright, and he laughed far more than he cried. His appetite had improved, and he was now not only devouring the tweaked formula Selik had brewed up for him, he was also eating soft cooked cereals and mashed fruits. As a result, he had already gained .907 kilograms, and his face was no longer pinched and drawn. He slept well at night, and his bowel movements were regular and satisfactory. Best of all, he was happy. One of the contributing factors to that happiness now swatted at Jim’s wriggling toes, and the baby giggled once more.

“Skittles,” Selik said mildly, “gently, please. James is not a catnip mouse.”

“Merrup,” the orange kitten replied, batting gently at those tempting toes with one downy paw. Most humans believed that cats did not understand Standard; Selik knew better. He’d wanted Jim to have a pet. A sehlat would have been ideal, but there were no breeders on earth, and many humans found sehlats—intimidating, to say the least. A dog had been a possibility, but cats were actually more intelligent (Selik never bothered to tell dog lovers that truth). Therefore, Selik had obtained Skittles, a fluffy orange-striped feline with a plumy tail that was actually longer than the kitten’s body. He had carefully introduced Skittles and Jim, and it had been love at first sight for both. Jim was even beginning to make noises that sounded suspiciously like meowing.

Selik glanced at the clock and set aside his padd, rising to his feet. He crossed the room and bent to pick up Jim, the baby immediately lifting his tiny arms towards Selik, gurgling as the Vulcan lifted him up.

“You have an appointment,” Selik explained. He glanced down at Skittles, who was now chewing on Selik’s sandal-latch. “We will return in two hours—and yes, I will stop at the fish market on the way home and obtain some tuna scraps."

“Merrup!” Skittles replied, pleased. He liked the large, mostly-hairless cat with the elegant ears, almost as much as he liked the small house ape.

 

As the orphan of two Starfleet officers, Jim was entitled to both a pension and lifetime medical care. Therefore, upon their arrival in San Francisco, Selik had made an appointment for Jim at Starfleet Medical for a check-up. Today was a follow-up visit.

 

“Good afternoon, Mr. Selik.” Dr. Piper, an older man with snow-white hair, entered the exam room where Selik and Jim were waiting. He reminded Selik of the Dr. Piper who had been the CMO on the Enterprise before Leonard McCoy, adversary and friend. Briefly, Selik wondered if there was a Leonard McCoy somewhere on this earth as well. The parallels between universes seemed plentiful. For the moment, however, Selik was pleased by the obvious competence and friendliness of this Dr. Piper.

“Good day, doctor,” Selik replied. He’d been sitting on a chair with Jim in his lap, but now he rose and set Jim on the exam table, keeping one hand in the small of Jim’s back to help him balance. Jim cooed and waved his hands in the air. He wasn’t sure why they were in this room, but as long as Selik was with him, he didn’t care.

“My!” Piper looked at Jim with evident surprise and pleasure. “You’re looking so much better, young man. Yes, you are,” he said, chucking Jim under the chin and hearing his giggle. Piper quickly scanned Jim, weighed and measured him, and checked his blood work, noting the improvements across the board. He’d seen Jim’s files from the orphanage, of course; he’d seen the troubling signs that the infant was failing to develop properly. But now… He looked with new respect at the elderly Vulcan who had adopted Jim. Mark Piper had frankly been somewhat skeptical about a Vulcan male adopting a human child—but he wasn’t skeptical now.

“I have to say this, Mr. Selik.” He handed Jim back, seeing how the baby’s arms went around Selik’s neck, Jim laying his head confidingly on Selik’s shoulder.

“What you’ve done—there’s no other word for it,” the doctor continued. “It’s a miracle.”

“No,” Selik replied, softly stroking the golden ringlets. “There is no miracle involved, doctor. It is simply—love.”


	3. Milestones

Jim sat on his favorite quilt on the living room floor. He was nine months old today, but he didn’t know that. What he did know was that the fluffy thing was fast—frustratingly faster than he was.

Jim’s eyes narrowed as Skittles batted the bright red rubber ball and skittered after it, only to pounce on it and send it flying once more with a swipe of her mighty paw. Jim loved the fluffy thing—it often snuck into his crib at night and curled up next to him, purring and kneading Jim’s body with its paws until Jim fell asleep once more, soothed by the love emanating from the tiny feline. But he did not love the fluffy thing right now—it was playing with his ball, and the ball was getting further and further away. Jim thumped his fist on the floor, but thanks to the quilt, it didn’t make much noise. He frowned as the fluffy thing chased the ball some more.

“Daggit!”

Selik looked up from the large number of student exams he was grading—it was almost the end of the semester for many schools, and his workload was particularly heavy—certainly nothing like it had been when he was both First Officer and Science Officer of the USS Enterprise, but then, he wasn’t 36 years of age any longer, either.

“I am pleased you are vocalizing, kan-bu,” he said kindly, and he was pleased. Due to his premature birth, Jim was still a bit behind other human infants in terms of mobility and speech. Thanks to the link that had formed between them and only strengthened in the past months, Selik could always determine Jim’s needs, but others would want him to talk.

“However, I cannot take you to the park at this time,” Selik continued, for once oblivious to Jim’s meaning. “Perhaps in an hour or so, when my work is completed.” He turned back to the exams. Selik believed in speaking to Jim as if the infant could understand every word, knowing that sooner or later, he would. Right now, though, Jim wasn’t interested in the park.

“Grubnuk,” Jim muttered, seeing the orange fluffy thing take the ball in its mouth and merrily scoot across the room to the window, where it lay down and began to quite thoughtlessly gnaw on Jim’s rubber ball!

Enough was enough. Jim had been carefully observing the fluffy thing for weeks now; its mode of locomotion looked far more achievable than that of his sa-mekh, who was so very tall and who tottered along on only two limbs. Skittles used four; that was much more intelligent. Jim had taken to rolling across the floor when he wanted to get somewhere, but that wouldn’t give him the speed to catch the fluffy thing and rescue his ball.

While Selik frowned over a highly illogical student equation, Jim rolled over onto his belly and then rose up, not onto his hands and knees, but onto his hands and feet, plump little butt with the Batman print plastic diaper pants sticking up in the air, head down, blue eyes focused on his goal with an intensity that many people who’d known Captain Jim Kirk would have recognized. Jim tensed all of his muscles and shot forward, intent on grabbing the fluffy thing and his precious red ball—and succeeding only in falling flat on his face.

“Jim!” Selik looked up at Jim’s wail and was out of his chair in a nanosecond, across the room with all the speed and agility of the 36-year-old Spock, swooping up the wailing morsel of humanity with the red, bumped nose, and holding him close. Skittles, alarmed by the howl of a small human, shot out of the room and down the hall, leaving the ball behind.

“Shhh,” Selik soothed gently. “It is well, k’diwa. Hush now.” He inspected the nose and saw that Jim had indeed bumped it slightly, skinning it a bit on the carpet, but checking their link, Selik quickly ascertained that there was no serious damage. He knelt on the floor with Jim wrapped in a secure embrace, rocking the baby as Jim’s arms went around his neck in a fierce grip and he hiccupped, his sobs quickly dying away as Selik’s care and love flooded his soul and the pain in his nose subsided.

“Shhh; it is well, kan-bu. Your nose is only slightly abraded.” Selik stroked Jim’s hair.

“Abrad,” Jim agreed mournfully. “Abrad.”

“Yes, but there is no serious harm.” Selik pressed a kiss to the nose, remembering how, so many years ago, his own mother had ‘kissed it and made it better.’ There had never been any empirical evidence that such ministrations worked, but now that he was a father, Selik fully understood their value.

“So,” Selik said with a twinkle in his eyes, “we are experimenting with locomotion, are we, my son?”

“Gleet,” Jim informed him. “Balglub.” He pointed at the ball, which was somewhat the worse for wear after Skittles had gnawed it.

“Ah,” Selik said. “My apologies, kan-bu. I did not realize the feline was thwarting you.”

“Twarp!” Jim agreed.

“So you were trying to move across the room and retrieve your ball. Well, then, we must work on that.” With a final kiss to the bruised nose, Selik set Jim down onto the carpet.

“I believe you need tutelage in crawling, kan-bu. Observe. You do not rise up onto your toes; you allow your knees to carry your weight.” Selik got on all fours. “That provides a much more stable structure.”

“Stble stata,” Jim concurred merrily. He loved it when sa-mekh played with him.

“Now.” Selik straightened just long enough to gently position Jim on the rug on his hands and knees, then resumed his position. “Observe, kan-bu. Left side first, then right side, then left side again.” He began to crawl across the rug while Jim watched, giggling. Selik crawled the length of the room and then turned.

“Now you try it,” he began…and then he looked up, to see the social worker, Marcia Williamson, standing in the doorway. By court order, Ms. Williamson had been given a key to Selik’s home and was making unscheduled visits to ensure that Jim was being cared for. This was one of those visits.

“Um, Mr. Selik, I….excuse me.” Marcia was flushed with embarrassment at interrupting this scene.

Selik rose easily to his feet. “Good day, Ms. Williamson,” he said politely. “James and I are working on locomotion. Please feel free to observe and evaluate as your job requires.”

“That’s quite all right,” Marcia replied, her eyes taking in the spotlessly clean room, the plump, happy baby, and a Vulcan who was willing to shed his dignity and crawl around on the floor in order to teach his son. “I have seen all I need to for today, sir.”

 

It was no surprised that the final report on Jim’s home environment was glowing.

 

It was Christmas Eve, Jim’s first Christmas. Selik had pondered whether he should celebrate such holidays—after all, they were not traditional in Vulcan society. But upon reflection, he’d decided it would be unfair to Jim not to celebrate his human heritage. Besides, his t’hy’la had always loved Christmas; Selik couldn’t deny this small one the opportunity to experience the same joys.

So it was that on this Christmas Eve, Selik sat in the rocking chair (which had been an excellent investment), next to the hologram Christmas tree he’d programmed into the computer (the real thing was far too great a temptation for Skittles and probably for Jim as well).

“Tonight is Christmas Eve, kan-bu,” Selik explained to Jim, who was fresh from the tub and dressed in his red flannel footie pajamas.

“Kissmis,” Jim said brightly.

Selik gave him a squeeze. “That is close enough,” he replied. “Christmas is a very special holiday. It has religious overtones, but it is also about family.”

‘”Famblee?”

“Yes, family—like you and I and Skittles,” Selik replied. “Family is very important; families give us love and security. Christmas celebrates that love.” He shifted Jim on his lap, feeling the warm little body cuddle close, Jim’s head lean against his stomach.

“Now I would like to read you a story that explains this holiday,” Selik said. He opened the old-fashioned book and began:

“Twas the night before Christmas and all though the house, not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse…”

Jim drifted off to sleep, safe with his family, dreaming of mice and jolly fat elves.

 

The mild California winter (mild but plenty severe enough for Selik) was over. It was March, specifically March 22nd—Jim’s first birthday.

Selik, dressed in his best, looked at his son, who was sitting on his floor pillow, also dressed in his finest, petting Skittles and chatting away at the feline.

“Come, kan-bu.’ Selik held out his arms to Jim. “It is time for us to go.”

Jim looked up. “Ride?” he asked, a huge smile on his face. Jim loved to ride in the air car.

“Yes,” Selik confirmed. “We have an appointment.”

Jim’s smile faded. “Stick-ouch?” A week ago, he’d had his one-year check-up—and several inoculations. Selik had patiently explained that the ‘stick-ouch’ moments were necessary so Jim didn’t get sick, but that didn’t mean that Jim enjoyed them.

“No stick-ouch, I promise,” Selik assured his son.

“M’Kay.” Jim got to his feet and toddled across the room, followed closely by Skittles, who hoped this meant lunch was coming early.

“I am sorry,” Selik informed the feline, picking Jim up and heading for the door. “You are not invited.”

 

“Mr.Selik.” The judge looked up from the stack of reports, smiling at the dignified Vulcan gentleman and the bright-eyed cherub on his lap.

“I have reviewed all the files on Jim’s case, and it is obvious to the court that you have provided him with a secure and loving environment, one in which he has thrived,” Judge Ito continued. “There is no question in my mind that you will continue to provide a safe and suitable home for James. Therefore, I am ruling that your petition to adopt James Tiberius Kirk be finalized.” He rose from behind his desk and came around, offering Selik his hand. “Congratulations, sir, to you and your son—James Tiberius Kirk cha’Selik.”

Selik rose to his feet, Jim in his arms and shook the extended hand. “Thank you, Your Honor,” he replied.

“Tak ooo,” Jim echoed. He had no idea what was happening, but true to his word, sa-mekh had not produced any stick-ouches, so Jim was a happy one-year-old.

 

After a birthday lunch at Selik’s favorite Chinese restaurant (Jim loved mu-shu pork and Selik loved spring rolls), Selik had taken Jim to a toy emporium and allowed him to pick out two new toys, a dump truck and a new poly-stuffed ursine to replace the one from the orphanage, which Skittles had adopted and dragged around the house until it was a poly-stuffed lump.

Once they arrived home, Selik put Jim down for a nap. Tucked in with both his new truck and his new bear, filled with contentment and mu-shu pork, Jim quickly dropped off to sleep. Selik stood over his bed for a long time, just watching Jim sleep, listening to his soft breathing, seeing the peaceful, happy face on the pillow, cheeks plump and rosy, so different from the sad and sickly mite of only six months past. And now Jim was legally his to raise and cherish, to teach and love. Selik’s heart swelled with gratitude and love and he whispered a silent thank-you to whatever forces had brought him here and allowed him the privilege of caring for this young life. He resolved anew to give Jim the very best life he could offer.

Now that the legalities were over and Jim was his permanently, Selik decided to act on another resolution. Earth was wonderful—but it wasn’t his home. Selik longed to see the full red sun in the sky, watch sehlats romp in the valley of Tru’Kir, taste fresh-made plomeek soup, see Vulcans all around him. Jim was still young; he would adapt easily to a new environment. Selik made up his mind—they would leave earth. They would make a new home—on Vulcan.


	4. A Tiny Pilgrim

The Vulcan government, ever since the days of Surak at least, had always had fairly open policies regarding immigration and visitation. Provided that the applicant could prove that he or she was self-supporting, free of communicable diseases, and not wanted for a crime by any other government, they were welcome to take up residency on Vulcan. Selik provided information regarding his finances, as well as both his and Jim’s most recent physicals and list of inoculations, not to mention proof that Skittles’ shots were up-to-date. Selik decided there was no need to mention that pesky death sentence imposed by the Romulan government in another universe. It was decades ago, after all—and those Romulans, sadly, were in no position to ask for extradition now. So Selik filled out all the necessary paperwork, and two months, four days after Jim’s birthday, the house had been sub-let (Selik thought they might want to come back someday, so he decided not to sell), they were packed and booked on the Star Shower, a passenger vessel that made regular trips to the Andorian system, Deneb Four and Five—and Vulcan.

 

Jim wasn’t sure what was happening. Sa-mekh had told him that they were going on a trip, a much longer trip than Jim had ever experienced.

“We are going to a new home, kan-bu,” he explained one night as he rocked Jim.

“Bad house?” Jim asked anxiously. He had only the dimmest memories of the orphanage, not really memories at all so much as vague feelings, but from somewhere deep inside, he remembered he hadn’t been happy there—and he did not want to go back.

“No, small one,” Selik assured his son, knowing what Jim meant. “You will never live at the orphanage again.”

“Go ‘lone?” Jim didn’t like that idea, either.

“Of course not.” Selik kissed the top of Jim’s head. “You will not be alone, k’diwa. I am going with you. We will go to our new home together. It is a planet called Vulcan, where my people live.”

“Take fluff?” Jim looked over at the sofa, where Skittles was perched precariously on the back of the sofa, doing a split any gymnast would be proud of as he licked his butt.

“Skittles is part of the family, too. He will come with us.”

“M’kay.” Jim snuggled down in Selik’s arms and closed his eyes. That was settled. If sa-mekh said they would be together, then they would be.

 

Jim soon discovered that this ‘moving’ involved a great many stick-ouches, which did not endear him to the idea. However, Dr. Piper gave him a grape sucker, and sa-mekh had to have stick-ouches too. He was very brave about them, and he didn’t even get a sucker.

“I will miss this little guy,” Dr. Piper said as they got ready to leave his office.

“I thank you for all your help, doctor,” Selik replied. “And I am sure Jim would thank you, too.”

“I doubt that,” Piper replied with a smile. “Not after all those shots.”

“Stick-ouch,” Jim said, rubbing his arm as he sat on the exam table.

Piper opened his arms. “Can I have a good-bye hug?” he asked.

Jim thought for a second. “Hug,” he agreed, and hugged the doctor, who then handed him back to Selik.

“Live long and prosper, Dr. Piper,” Selik said.

“You take care of that little angel of yours,” Piper replied. He waited until Selik and Jim had left his office before blinking back tears. “Sentimental old fool,” he muttered, closing Jim’s file.

 

Even little angels have bad days.

By the time Selik got himself, Jim, Skittles, and their luggage through the spaceport and onto the Star Shower, he was tired—not exhausted but tired. Most of their belongings had been shipped ahead to Vulcan, of course, but they still needed a fair amount of luggage for the two week trip, all of which Selik had to push on a cart (well, he didn’t have to push it, but he wasn’t going to give in and ask for a porter). Skittles did not like his carrier, and he was most vocal—and rather shrill—about it. And Jim, who had been awakened much earlier than usual and was now completely out of his comfort zone, was fussing, clinging to Selik’s neck and producing a low, sad whimper that all but broke the Vulcan’s heart—but which made most of the humans within range glare at Selik. He did his best to juggle luggage, cat, and unhappy Jim, and glared right back.

Finally, they made it through the queue and boarded the liner. A female steward, a cheerful blonde who reminded Selik somewhat of Janice Rand, came up to Selik as he stopped to pat Jim one more time in an effort to soothe his baby. Jim just tightened his death grip on Selik’s neck and whimpered again.

“Sir, may I help you find your cabin?” she asked with a sympathetic smile. “It looks like you have all you can handle.”

“I am most grateful,” Selik replied, relieved. He dug into one of the pockets of his traveling cloak and pulled out their ticket. “We are in Cabin 42-C.”

“Very good, sir. Right this way.” She swiftly picked up Skittles’ carrier and at least three pieces of luggage. “No problem, sir,” she said when Selik protested. “I’m a Xachathan—high gravity home planet, you see. Come along. Let’s get you and your little boy settled.” She marched off briskly, Selik and Jim following in her wake. They took a moving walkway and a lift, and then they were in front of the door to 42-C. “Here we are, sir, your home for the next 12 days.” They entered, and Selik looked around, seeing the crib he’d requested for Jim set up along one wall, along with a bed for him, a sofa, a vid-screen, a small round table and chairs, and a replicator.

“The bathroom is through here,” their guide pointed, “and there is a litter box set up for you, kitty.” She set down Skittles’ carrier as well as the luggage as Selik set down his burdens, except for Jim. Selik dug in his pocket once more and passed over a generous handful of credits.

“Thank you,” he said.

“You’re very welcome,” she replied with a pleased smile. “If you need anything during the trip, don’t hesitate to ring—this section is mine. Just hit the link and ask for Ms. Grupell.” She nodded to him and turned, leaving Selik and Jim alone. Selik walked across the room, Jim still in his arms, the tiny flushed face buried in Selik’s neck. Selik looked at the wall panel and hit a button, allowing the shutters over their porthole to part.

“Look, Jim,” he said softly, stroking Jim’s hair. “Look, kan-bu.”

Jim sniffed and raised his head. “See?” Selik shifted Jim in his arms. “Look out there.”

Jim looked—and Selik felt it through their link, that moment of wonder as in this universe, James Kirk looked out for the first time into space as the Star Shower left its moorings and began to move slowly through the Sol system before heading towards Vulcan.

“See?” Selik spoke softly. “This is part of our journey, Jim. These are the stars. I will teach you all about them, and someday—someday, you may want to come back.”

“Bright,” Jim murmured, entranced, as he stared out into space. “Bright.”

 

By the time the trip was over, none of the passengers were glaring at the elderly Vulcan and his small charge. Once Jim had recovered his equilibrium, he couldn’t get enough of the ship and all the people aboard—not only humans but many other species as well. He and Selik walked the decks each day, played in the lounge, ate in the passengers’ dining room, and Jim charmed everyone he met. Half the females on the ship were fighting for the chance to hold him, and Selik watched, bemused and secretly tickled, as yet another Jim Kirk charmed dozens of women, young and old. Jim didn’t know that he was carrying on a proud tradition—he only knew that there was a world full of people who smiled when they saw him, who wanted to cuddle him on their soft laps—and who slipped him cookies when Selik pretended not to look. Jim decided that sa-mekh was wise, after all—moving was fun.

And every night, they looked at the stars together.

 

They disembarked at Vulcan’s main spaceport on a clear day in early winter—winter by Vulcan’s standards at least, the temperature no more than 37 degrees Celsius. Before moving to Vulcan, Selik had thought long and hard about where he and Jim would live—he knew his small one would be most uncomfortable on some areas of the planet. Selik had investigated the Vulcan of this universe, discovering that the planet he’d known and the one he now planned to live on were very similar in most respects—and the best place to bring up a human child would be in the Raal Provence, near the Voroth Sea, where the climate was more temperate. Selik contacted a realtor on Vulcan and shopped for a new home via the Net, finding just what he wanted after much searching—a cabin on a small lake. Jim would be happy there; Selik would make sure of that.

 

The cabin was everything Selik had planned it to be—it was gratifying to know that even realtors on Vulcan were honest. The cabin was not large, just two bedrooms, two baths, kitchen, living room, and a small room that Selik could use as an office. But it was sturdily-constructed, furnished with all their belongings that had been shipped and delivered, and it was set in a small grove of evergreen trees, not more than three hundred meters from the lake, which had a dock and a small boathouse. Selik made a mental note to buy a boat—and to teach Jim to swim as soon as possible.

There was a medium-sized town just seven kilometers away, so they would be able to obtain groceries and other supplies easily. There was another, slighter larger home on the other side of the lake—apparently someone else wanted a retreat located in a slighter cooler region. Their first night in their new home, Selik looked across the lake and saw lights in the windows of the other house. He resolved to pay a call in a few days—perhaps their new neighbors would become friends. Maybe they’d even have a child for Jim to play with.

 

Sarek of the House of Surak, the newly-appointed Vulcan Ambassador to Earth, looked out of the window of his vacation home, across the lake at the small cabin that had been constructed a year or so ago. It had been vacant since it was built; the owner died just before the house was completed. Tonight, however, there were lights in the windows. Sarek turned to his wife, who was resting on the sofa.

“Someone has moved into the cabin across the lake,” he noted. “Perhaps I should call upon the new occupants.”

Amanda smiled. “That would be nice,” she replied. “I love it here, Sarek; you know that, but it is a bit lonely compared to our villa.”

He crossed the room and knelt by her side, one hand gently caressing her swollen stomach.

“You know the healers wish for you to rest here until your gestation is complete,” he replied.

She giggled. “Until my gestation is complete? Sweetheart, you make me sound like a breeding sehlat. How about just until our baby is born?” She placed her hand over his and smiled into his eyes.

“As you wish,” he replied. “I am simply grateful that this cooler location has alleviated some of your discomfort.”

She grimaced as she shifted on the sofa. “I do feel better, but I’m still as big as a beached whale.”

Sarek rose and bent to kiss her forehead. “My wife, even the smallest Earth whale weighs at least 2,700 kilograms at birth; I can assure you, you have a long way to go before you could hope to match…”

She swatted at him, laughing.

 

The following morning, Selik and Jim were having breakfast. Selik was introducing his kan-bu to spimikan porridge—similar in many respects to the Terran concoction known as Cream of Wheat. Drizzled with honey, it made a nutritious breakfast, and Jim was spooning it up, crowing with laughter when Skittles jumped on the tray of his high chair and stuck his nose in the bowl.

“No, kitty; bad kitty.” Selik picked up the cat and put him back down on the floor. “I will get you some of your kibble,” he continued, seeing that his dish was almost empty. Just then, however, there was a knock on the front door.

“Cop-penny!” Jim hollered.

“Company, kan-bu,” Selik corrected him gently. “Yes, we must see who it is.” He took Jim up out of his chair and onto his hip, moving to the front door and opening it.

“Good day,” Selik started to say, but the words died before they reached his lips. Standing on the doorstep, looking at Selik with an expression of polite inquiry on his face, was a very familiar figure.

“Good day,” the visitor said as Selik stood there gaping. “Forgive my intrusion, but I am your nearest neighbor and wish to bid you welcome.” He gestured at the house across the lake

“My name is Sarek.”


	5. *&^%$# Temporal Anomalies

For an endless moment, Selik stared blankly at the man who was and wasn’t his father. For his part, Sarek stood patiently on the front stoop, wondering why this elderly Vulcan looked so…astonished…at the sight of him. And it was odd—Sarek knew he’d never met this gentleman before, yet he looked somehow—familiar.

It was entirely possible that they might have stood there for an hour—but then a small blonde head popped out from behind Selik’s leg.

“Hi! Hi!” Jim chirped. It was a new person, a new person with pointed ears just like sa-mekh! Maybe he was nice like sa-mekh, too!

Selik flushed and stepped back, bending to pick up Jim in the same motion. “Please—you are welcome to my house.”

“Thank you.” Sarek followed Selik into the house and into the living room, where he was shown to a seat.

“I am Selik,” his host said. He nodded towards Jim, still in his arms. “This is my son, James.”

“Kan-bu!” Jim said cheerfully.

“You are indeed,” Sarek agreed gravely.

“May I offer you refreshments?” Selik asked.

“Only if it does not inconvenience you,” Sarek replied.

“Courtesy to a guest is never an inconvenience.” Selik gently set Jim down on the floor. “Small one, will you stay here with our guest?’

“M’kay,” Jim said agreeably, plopping down on the floor at Sarek’s feet.

“I will return momentarily.” Selik retreated and Sarek looked down at the small, obviously human child. Large blue eyes looked back up at him and then Jim squealed as a blur of orange fur zipped into the room and leaped on him.

“Bad fluff!” Jim chortled as he rolled around on the floor with the…feline, that was what it was. It appeared to be attacking the child, but Jim was giggling, and Sarek remembered that pet felines often engaged in mock-attacks.

“I see you have met the other member of my household.” Sarek had re-entered the room, a tray in his hand. “Kan-bu, please take the ferocious animal off into a corner. Perhaps his catnip mouse would placate him.”

“M’kay.” Jim got to his feet and toddled off to the corner where he had his quilt and toys for both him and Skittles, the cat in hot pursuit.

Selik set the tray on the table between the sofa and Sarek’s chair. “I have brought tea and sweet sesame wafers,” he said. “I apologize for the meager offering; I have not yet completely stocked the pantry.” Manners demanded that Selik denigrate what he placed before Sarek, even if it had been a feast.

“This is more than adequate; I thank you.” Manners demanded that response from Sarek even if Selik had set rocks and spring water in front of him.

Selik poured and they sipped their tea for a few moments.

“You no doubt have questions about the small one,” Selik said at last.

“I confess to a certain curiosity; however, you are under no obligation. I do not wish to violate the Code of Privacy.” Sarek took a sesame wafer.

“I an accustomed to curiosity; few of our people have fostered human children. I adopted James when he was six months old.” Selik regarded the child and cat with a tender, brooding look. “He is a…legacy from someone very dear to me.”

“I see.”

“I decided that I wished to raise him on my home world, so we emigrated from Earth. However, since Jim is human, I wished to raise him somewhere with a more temperate climate, at least while he is so young and tender. For that reason, I purchased this house.”

“Logical,” Sarek replied. “I have a home in Shi’Kahr in addition to the lake house; she who is my wife is human as well and enjoys the cooler temperatures here.”

“The Lady Amanda,” Selik murmured absently, his mind preoccupied with the prospect of not only meeting his father but his mother as well, a woman he had not seen in any reality in more than eighty years.

Sarek looked faintly startled. “You know my wife?”

Selik reminded himself to kick his own behind at a later time. “You are of a High House and the Ambassador of our people,” he replied smoothly. “You and your family are known to many who have never had the privilege of a face-to-face meeting.”

“Ah, I see.” Sarek sipped his tea. “Yes, my wife is carrying our first child, and the heat of the city is taxing. For that reason, I purchased the property across the lake. The healers believe she will soon be delivered.”

In four days’ time, if the parallels between universes are this precise, Selik thought. “It is logical that you would see to her comfort,” he replied gravely. “My congratulations upon the impending birth.”

“Thank you,” Sarek replied. “I must confess to a certain degree of anticipation.”

“As is normal,” Selik acknowledged. They finished their tea and cookies and chatted for a time. At last, Sarek rose to his feet.

“I pray you will excuse me,” he said. “My wife is quite safe and comfortable at our home, of course, but I find myself reluctant to be away from her for extended periods. At the same time, I wished to come here and bear greetings.”

“Thank you and I understand your desire to stay close at this time.” Selik rose as well as Jim came toddling up.

“Go bye now?” He smiled up at Sarek, who had to admit that this small human was most appealing.

“Yes, Jim, our guest Sarek is leaving.”

Sarek put a hand on the small blonde head, patting it. “I am pleased to meet you, James,” he said. “Please take good care of your excellent feline.”

“Bad fluff,” Jim said, giggling.

“Please give the Lady Amanda my compliments and say that I trust all will go well with the birth.” Selik accompanied his guest to the door

“Thank you,” Sarek replied. “We will no doubt speak again.”

“Bye!” Jim waved. Selik watched as the man who was not quite his father headed on foot around the lake towards his home. Jim tugged at his pant leg.

“Nice man, sa-mekh,” Jim said. “Liked bad fluff.”

Selik bent and picked up his son once more. “Yes,” he said, hugging Jim. “Sarek is a very nice man.” And temporal anomalies are incredibly provoking.

 

Amanda, lying on a chaise and propped up with pillows as she embroidered a tiny bib, looked up as Sarek came into the room. “Hello, darling,” she said with a smile. “Did you meet our new neighbors?”

“I did,” Sarek replied, taking a chair near his wife. “It is a…peculiar situation.”

“What do you mean, Sarek?”

“I honestly do not know,” he mused. “Our neighbor is an elder, a gentleman named Selik. He apparently does not have a mate; however, he has adopted a human child, a boy approximately one year old. The child’s name is James.”

“Oh, how nice,” Amanda said. “But what’s so peculiar about Selik?” She felt a flicker of alarm. “You don’t think he’s…dangerous, do you?”

“Of course not,” Sarek replied swiftly. Crime was virtually unknown on Vulcan, and there was no violent crime of any kind. “He…well, my wife, if it were not illogical, I would say that it know him, even though we had never met before today.”

“Well,” she said reassuringly, “perhaps he simply reminds you of someone.” She smiled and reached for her husband’s hand, laying it on her protruding belly.

“He is kicking a great deal,” Sarek noted, his expression softening.

“You’re sure it’s a boy,” she teased.

“I am quite sure, my wife.” He bent and kissed her. “We will have a son.”

“Well, we’ll know soon,” Amanda said.

 

Indeed, four nights later, Selik stood at the living room window, looking across the lake at Sarek’s home. There were two unfamiliar air cars in the graveled lot, and the windows were brightly lit as figures passed before them.

“”Sa-mekh?” Jim toddled up to him. “What see?”

Selik lifted Jim into his arms so the child could see out the window. “Pretty!” Jim said at once. “Party, sa-mekh?” Jim remembered his first birthday party. He had been highly impressed by both the cake and brightly-wrapped boxes with surprises inside.

“Not exactly a party, my son,” Selik murmured, “but certainly a celebration.” And perhaps a significant moment for you, my child, if the universes continue to run along the same tracks. He stood there with Jim in his arm as across the lake, a new version of himself came into being.

 

Spock cha’Sarek was skinny, bald, almost pea-green as newborn Vulcans often were, and possessed a head that was ever-so-slightly pointed, thanks to the pressure of the birth canal. That same tight passage had wrinkled his ears as well, making them stand out at right angles from his head, at least temporarily.

“He’s perfect,” Amanda said, holding her son close. It had been a long and tiring labor, but that did not matter now.

“He is indeed,” Sarek agreed. “He is ideal in every way.”

 

Three mornings later, the door chimed. “Me go!” Jim raced to the door, Skittles at his heels, and Selik right there to open the door, which despite Jim’s determination was a bit too heavy for him at this time.

Sarek stood on the doorstep. “Nice man!” Jim called.

“Good day, small one,” Sarek said. He turned to Selik. “Good day, neighbor. I will not stay, but I wished to announce that my child has been born, a son.”

“My congratulations,” Selik replied calmly.

Sarek reached into his robes and drew out an elaborately folded parchment bound with blue and silver ribbons. “I would ask you and your son to join us in four days time at a ceremony to welcome my son, Spock cha’Sarek, into my Clan,” he said.

Selik bowed slightly as he accepted the parchment. “It will be an honor,” he assured Sarek. I always wanted to attend my own christening.

“Party!” Jim caroled, seeing the invitation. “Party!”

 

Dressed in the plain buff robe of one who claimed no Clan, with Jim dressed in a tiny navy and white sailor suit, Selik made his way into Sarek’s house. A significant number of Sarek’s friends and relatives were in attendance; children were valued by Vulcan society, and this tiny one would one day take his place in a great Clan. Small groups stood here and there throughout the large solarium, sipping tea and fruit juice or nibbling on plates of finger foods. At the far end of the room, Amanda sat in a cushioned chair, Sarek at her side, a tiny cradle nearby. Taking a deep breath, Selik made his way across the room to greet the woman who was not his mother. This Amanda had hair of chestnut bronze and green eyes rather than blue—but Selik still would have known her anywhere. He waited until she had finished speaking to the couple in front of him and then stepped forward, Jim at his side.

“Lady Amanda.” He bowed slightly. “My felicitations.”

“My wife, this is Selik, our neighbor about whom I have spoken.”

She gave the dignified elderly man a bright smile. “Of course. Thank you and welcome to our home.” She looked at Jim, who was peeking around from behind Selik’s leg. “And you must be Jim,” she said coaxingly. “My, what a handsome boy you are.”

“Yes,” Jim agreed, stepping out from behind his sa-mekh. This lady was pretty and nice, not to mention smart. “See baby?”

“Of course,” Amanda said. “My baby is right there in his cradle.”

“M’kay.” Jim toddled over while Selik handed Amanda a wrapped package. “I hope this small offering will enrich your child’s life,” he said. He had given them a series of biographical holo-vids on great Vulcan leaders, suitable for children, of course—Surak’s assassination was not pictured, for example. He’d planned to have Jim watch them when he was older, but there was plenty of time to obtain another set.

“Thank you,” Amanda replied, as she accepted the package. “Your gift is greatly appreciated.”

While the grown-ups talked, Jim made his way over to the cradle. It was fairly low to the ground, so it was easy for him to peek over the top and see the skinny, solemn-faced sprite lying inside. Jim looked at the baby, and as he did so, Spock woke and looked back, black eyes staring at this little stranger. For a long moment they simply looked at one another—and then Spock’s digestive system finished working on his last meal, producing a cloud of gas that was not quite visible to the naked eyes.

“Eeowww!” Jim scrambled back and lost his footing, landing with a thump on his well-padded bottom. “Stinky!”

“James!” Selik was mortified, but Amanda simply laughed.

“Oh, sweetheart, it’s okay.” She held out her arms to Jim, who scrambled to his feet and scampered away from the smelly baby. “Here.” Amanda drew Jim into her lap.

“You’re right,” she said, still chuckling as she cuddled him. “Babies can be stinky.”

Sarek turned smoothly to Selik. “While your son is being comforted by my wife, might I speak with you alone for a moment?”

Selik felt a sudden cold dread, but he was a guest in this man’s house; he could hardly refuse a private conversation. “Of course,” he replied. He turned to Jim. “Kan-bu, will you stay and keep the Lady Amanda company?”

“You can help me open gifts,” Amanda told Jim.

“Open?” Jim brightened at once. He loved tearing paper. Sarek and Selik left them together, Jim ripping the paper from a sehlat mobile.

 

Once in Sarek’s study, he indicated a chair. “Please be seated—kinsman.”

Selik froze but then forced himself to sit down. “I am afraid I do not know what you mean,” he said calmly.

“I believe we both know better than that,” Sarek replied, equally calm. He looked at Selik, his gaze level. “Your blood ‘calls’ to mine,” he continued quietly. “I have not seen you at Clan gatherings but you are of the House of Surak; I cannot be mistaken about that fact.”

So much for the idea of bluffing, Selik thought. “You are correct,” he said, his shoulders slumping slightly. “I should not have attempted to sidestep the issue. I am of the House of Surak.”

“And yet I, the son of the Matriarch, do not know you,” Sarek observed. “Our Clan is not that large.” He regarded the elder before him. “Are you…vrekasht?” he asked quietly, using the ancient word for one who had been cast out from his Clan.

“No,” Selik replied. It is not that simple.” He took a deep breath, deciding in an instant to trust Sarek. There were few other options.

“I am of the House of Surak—in another time and place,” he said. “Due to a series of…events, I made the journey to this universe, where I have been forced to remain and make a new life for myself.” He was certainly not going to try and explain that he was another version of this man’s newborn son.

Sarek was silent for a long moment. “The theory of multiple universes has always been just that—a theory,” he said at last. “You wish me to believe it is truth.”

Selik did not quite shrug. “You are free to believe what you wish,” he replied evenly. “I am simply explaining why you are faced with a kinsman whom you have never met.”

“I see. Sarek was silent again, plainly thinking as Selik waited patiently.

“What you have told me is extraordinary—but it fits the available data,” Sarek said at last. “Therefore, I will accept it. You are welcome in my house, Selik, as are all those of my blood. For the rest—we need not speak of it.”

“Thank you,” Selik replied quietly. “I am grateful—kinsman.”

“Come,” Sarek said, rising to his feet. “We should rejoin the party. By this time, my wife had no doubt adopted James as her second child.”

“I would not be surprised,” Selik agreed, falling into step with his kinsman. “James has great charm.” In any universe, he thought.


	6. Growing Pains

Selik tried very hard to look stern, no matter how difficult it was. “James Tiberius Kirk,” he said solemnly. “Your actions were not appropriate.”

Jim, now aged nineteen months, looked up at his sa-mekh, blue eyes wide and wistful, tiny lower lip quivering gently. “Bad fluff pee by tree,” he quavered.

“Yes, that is true—but you are not a kitty,” Selik replied firmly. “Small ones do not urinate by trees if there is an alternative available.”

Jim didn’t get all of that, but he knew his sa-mekh was mad. “No pee,” he whispered. “No pee like bad fluff.”

“No,” Selik agreed. “You must go inside, in the bathroom fixture designed for that.”

“M’kay.” Jim toddled closer and wrapped his arms around his sa-mekh’s leg, looking up. “Sa-mekh hate me?” he asked sadly.

Selik wondered if it was physiologically possible for one’s heart to melt. He reached down and picked up his baby. “Of course not,” he reassured Jim. “There is nothing you could ever do that would make me hate you, kan-bu. You are the center of my world, and I must teach you as you grow. That is why we have these discussions.”

“Grow bigger than Skittles,” Jim agreed, snuggling close. “Big like sa-mekh.”

“Perhaps,” Selik said. My t’hy’la was shorter than I but you may indeed grow taller. He smiled to himself at that thought; his Jim had always hated being shorter, even though he would never admit it to Spock. He glanced at the chronometer.

“Come, Jim,” he said, setting Jim down. “We will go and eat lunch now, to help you grow.”

“Then go pee in fick-ture,” Jim announced. He couldn’t see why peeing in the house was better than watering the trees, but if sa-mekh said so, then Jim would believe it. Sa-mekh knew everything.

 

Time did not fly; Selik knew that. But it seemed to with Jim. His kan-bu grew quickly, and by the time he was two years old, he was a nearly non-stop blonde tornado, never walking when he could run and interested in everything around him. He was speaking both Standard and Vulcan (although he occasionally used both at once, but Selik always understood his meaning). He was finally successfully toilet-trained (there had been a bit of confusion regarding whether or not a small one should use the cat’s litter box). He was eating and sleeping well and his health was robust.

They had settled into their home, and Selik continued to teach online. He often did much of his grading and lesson plans at night so he could spend as many waking hours as possible with Jim. Of course, his kan-bu still napped—when Selik insisted. But there were still many hours of the day to play in the sun, to explore their surroundings, and to teach Jim to paddle his feet in the lake waters. Selik hired workman and had a small dock built, and he invested in Jim-sized life vests and other protective gear. As soon as Jim was old enough, Selik started swimming lessons. Jim enjoyed those. The bad fluff wasn’t smart like him; it couldn’t paddle!

“It is very important that you not go in the lake without me,” Selik told Jim over and over again as they splashed and played.

“M’kay,” Jim said agreeably. He liked playing in the warm water, but he didn’t want to make his sa-mekh sad, like he had when he’d peed on the trees.

Selik’s one worry about this location had been that Jim might be lonely. However, Jim never seemed to be. He played quite contentedly with his toys and with Skittles, and he was never far from Selik’s side. As he grew, their bond, different than the one Selik had enjoyed with his Jim but just as wonderful, grew stronger. Jim wasn’t a telepath, of course, but his feelings were far deeper and more mature than many young humans, and as a result, he and Selik enjoyed a rapport that seemed to satisfy nearly of Jim’s emotional needs.

Nearly all his needs.

 

After Spock’s birth, Sarek and his family returned to the city for some months. One evening, however, Selik looked across the lake and saw that there were once more lights on in the house.

“Jim.” He turned to look at his son, who was curled up on the rug with the cat, ‘reading’ one of the soft fabric books Selik had ordered for him. Jim couldn’t read yet—at least Selik didn’t think so—but he had an uncanny memory for what Selik read to him, and he was now explaining the story to the unimpressed feline.

“Pay ‘tention,” Jim said sternly. Skittle simply chewed on the corner of the book. “Good story. You see.” The cat yawned.

“Kan-bu, our friends are back.”

Jim’s face lit up. “’Manda?” He scrambled to his feet, all but knocking over the cat, which yowled indignantly and swatted at Jim’s ankle. Skittles missed; Jim was already at Selik’s side.

“Go see ’Manda,” he insisted merrily, tugging at Selik’s hand.

“Small one, we cannot right now,” Selik began. “It is night, and we should wait for an…” The door chimed.

“’Manda!” Jim hollered, making a beeline for the door.

It was not Amanda, however; it was Sarek.”

“Hi, hi!” Jim burbled when Selik opened the door to their neighbor.

‘Good eve, small one,” Sarek replied. He turned to Selik. “I apologize for the unannounced call,” he began, but Selik waved that aside.

“It is no bother,” he said. He looked down at Jim. “My kan-bu is supposed to be in bed at this time; however, that is a battle I seldom fight. He seems to sleep as much as he needs.”

“Not sleepy,” Jim announced. “Read to bad fluff.”

“Indeed,” Selik said. “Please, Sarek, come in and be comfortable.” He led the way to the living room, and Jim promptly climbed up into Sarek’s lap.

“Hi,” he said again. Selik sighed and looked at his neighbor.

“You have no doubt discovered that I have incredibly poor child-rearing skills.”

Sarek’s lips twitched. “I would not say that,” he replied. He looked down at Jim, who was snuggling happily on his lap. “There would be no logic in raising this small one as one would raise a Vulcan child; the pattern must fit its subject, not the other way around.” For a moment, Sarek looked pensive. “I find myself frequently contemplating that with my own son,” he admitted. “Spock will always be a child of two worlds—and reconciling those differences may prove challenging.”

“I have no doubt you—and Spock—will find the right path,” Selik replied.

“See ’Manda?” Jim asked, bored with all this talk of paths.

“Not tonight,” Sarek replied. “However, she is the reason for my visit.”

“How may I help?” Selik asked.

“Me help, too,” Jim insisted.

“I thank you both,” Sarek said gravely. “My request is a straightforward one. On the morrow, I am leaving for a diplomatic mission to a new culture, the Ferengi. They are not yet Federation members, and I feel it is too dangerous to take Amanda and our child along. I will be gone for some months, perhaps as many as six. The Ferengi apparently treat negotiations and treaty-writing as a sport, and they drag it out for as long as possible. Therefore, Amanda and Spock are staying here at our lake house, and I would ask that you bear her company and offer her your assistance if she needs such.” Sarek gave a wry shrug. “Amanda is, of course, completely competent to care for herself and my son, yet I would feel more at ease if I knew she had a kinsman close at hand if needed.”

“Of course,” Selik replied. “We are always concerned about the welfare of those we love. I assure you that Lady Amanda will lack for nothing that my company can give her.”

“Go see ’Manda,” Jim agreed. “Go read to her.”

“I am sure she will enjoy that,” Sarek said, his eyes smiling. “And Spock is just learning to walk. Perhaps the two of you can interact socially.”

Jim looked to his sa-mekh, confused.

“Play, kan-bu,” Selik said with a faint smile. “You and Spock can play.”

 

When Selik rose two mornings later and went into Jim’s room, he found his son already awake and sitting up in his bed.

“Go see ’Manda today?” were the first words out of Jim’s mouth.

“Indeed,” Selik replied. “We will go, kan-bu, once you and the feline have breakfasted.”

“M’kay.” Jim scrambled out of bed. “Eat fast. Feed bad fluff. Sa-mekh eat, too.”

“I will eat,” Selik promised, “and then we will go and visit Amanda and Spock.”

Jim made a face. “Stinky baby, sa-mekh. “No like stinky baby.”

“Selik hid his smile. “You should be nice to Spock,” he said gently. “He will not always smell, and someday he will be your friend.” I am not a betting individual, but I would be willing to bet on that.

“M’kay,” Jim said, resigned. As long as he could see Amanda, he guessed he could put up with the stinky baby.

 

“’Manda!” Jim hardly waited for the door to open before he wrapped his arms around Amanda’s legs, hugging fiercely.

“Good morning, sweetheart,” she laughed. Amanda knelt down and hugged Jim in return. “I’m so glad to see you.” She smiled up at Selik. “And you as well, of course.”

His eyes smiled back at her. “I know I come in a poor second to Jim,” he replied.

“Please, come in.” Amanda rose, picking Jim up. “My, you’re getting big.”

“Yes,” Jim replied proudly. “Big like sa-mekh.”

They proceeded into the sunny family room, Amanda sitting down and carefully setting Jim on his feet. Selik took a chair as well. As he sat down, he glanced towards the French doors. There, sitting on a small rug, was himself in miniature, the tiny head with its sharply-pointed ears and glossy black hair bent over a picture book.

Selik had been expecting this moment, but it still came as a shock.

“So that is Spock,” he managed to say. The almost-toddler glanced up when he heard his name, and a pair of very familiar black eyes met Selik’s unsmilingly. Then Spock went back to his book.

Amanda cast a proud, fond look towards her son. “That’s my baby,” she agreed. “He started walking almost three weeks ago, although he still likes to roll from one place to another. And he’s not very verbal, I’m afraid. He knows the words, but the healers believe he has nascent telepathic skills, so for that reason, they do not think he will talk much for a while yet.”

“That is often true of Vulcan children,” Selik agreed. Indeed, he had talked sparingly until his third birthday—there had been no need. He could understand quite well what was going on in the minds of those around him, and he’d never had any problem making his own wishes known.

“Spock will no doubt communicate when he feels the need.”

Amanda gave her son another loving smile. “Oh, he already does—I can sense what he needs almost before he can make a peep.” She turned the beaming smile on Selik. “I’m sort of gaga about motherhood, I’m afraid.”

“There are far worse personality traits to have,” he assured her.

“Me talk,” Jim piped up. “Me talk good.”

“I talk well, kan-bu,” Selik gently corrected him.

“You talk well,” Jim agreed with a giggle. “Me talk to Spock?” He dug in his pocket and pulled out the beloved ball he’d rescued from Skittles a thousand times. “Play ball with Spock.”

“”That is a very good idea,” Amanda said.

“M’kay.” Watched by the adults, Jim scampered over to where Spock was sitting, still absorbed in his picture book.

“Hi!” Jim said cheerfully, plopping down on the rug next to Spock, who looked up, his eyes regarding Jim with faint curiosity.

“Spock,” Amanda said gently. “Jim is a guest. What do we say to guests?”

Spock sat there for a moment, obviously thinking about it.

“T’nar pak sorat y’rani,” he said solemnly. Amanda glanced at Selik.

“I’m sorry; I forgot he only speaks Vulcan right now,” she began but she needn’t have worried.

“T’nar jaral,” Jim said cheerfully. “That means hi.” Amanda looked at Selik, surprised.

“Jim is very verbal,” he said with an answering smile in his eyes.

“I can see that,” she replied.

“Hi, Spock,” Jim continued, even as Spock turned back to his book. “Play ball.” He held out the ball but Spock ignored it, involved in his book.

“Play ball,” Jim said firmly, thrusting the ball—and his hand—under Spock’s nose.

Spock bit his hand. The play date was abruptly canceled.

 

“Sa-mekh?” Jim asked that night. He was being cuddled and rocked in his favorite chair, a small, neat bandage on his bitten finger.

Selik smoothed the blonde curls with a tender hand. “Yes, kan-bu?”

“Why Spock not like me?”

Selik pressed a kiss to the top of Jim’s head. “I am certain he will, my son,” he replied. “Spock is younger than you are, and his social skills are not advanced.”

The small brow wrinkled. “What those?”

“Social skills mean playing well with others,” Selik explained. “Spock needs to learn more about those.”

“Oh.” Jim was silent for a few minutes, and Selik thought he might be falling asleep. But then he spoke again.

“Sa-mekh?

“Yes, my kan-bu?”

Spock has a sa-mekh.”

“Yes, Sarek is his father. You know that.”

“Spock has a ko-mekh,” Jim said.

“Yes,” Selik agreed, feeling a faint dread.

“Me no have ko-mekh?” Jim turned his head, big blue eyes staring up into Selik’s.

I had hoped this subject would not arise for a time. I should have known better. Jim Kirk is precocious in any universe. Selik took a deep breath and held Jim closer.

“No,” he replied gently. “You had a ko-mekh, my son. She could not stay with you, although she wanted to. She loved you very much, but….she had to go far away. Some day, when you are big, we will talk more about this and I will explain.”

Jim was used to hearing that he had to wait for information until he was bigger. “Ko-mekh go far away, like we did? Go to stars?”

“That…is one way to explain it,” Selik replied softly. “She could not stay with you, so I took you as my kan-bu, so you would have someone to care for you.”

Jim thought about that.” But…Spock have two someone.” Jim was learning the concept of numbers, and he knew having two of something was better than just having one.

“Yes,” Selik agreed after a moment’s thought. “But you have me.”

Jim thought about that. “Is good,” he announced at last, putting his arms around Selik’s neck and squeezing. “Is good, sa-mekh. Have bad fluff, too.”

But it still didn’t seem fair that Spock had a sa-mekh and a ko-mekh. Jim thought about it as Selik rocked him. At last he fell asleep in Selik’s arms, his bite throbbing faintly, firmly convinced that he would never like Spock. Not only did he have a ko-mekh, he was stinky and his teeth were too sharp.


	7. No Path is Completely Smooth

“Sa-mekh.” The sad, croaky little voice had called to Selik at least once every few hours for the past three days, but Selik rose from his chair immediately and set down his padd, not even a hint of impatience in his expression. He left the living area and went down the short hall to Jim’s room, peeking in to see his miserable son lying in bed, face flushed, a large orange cat curled up at his side in a determined attempt to give comfort.

“You called me, kan-bu; I am here.” Selik moved across the room and sat down at the side of Jim’s bed, reaching out to smooth the damp curls away from the hot forehead.

“I’m still sick, sa-mekh.” At the age of four years, two months, and twenty-four days, Jim was a healthy, happy, active child—except on those fortunately rare occasions when he contracted some illness. Once he had recovered from his premature birth and the early trauma associated with it, once he had bonded with Selik, Jim had thrived, but even the best care and love couldn’t protect him from all illnesses, and even in this version of the 23rd century, small humans occasionally got ear infections. Jim was running a fever, both his throat and his ears hurt, and he was restless and miserable. Selik had quickly obtained the services of a healer, of course, and Jim was in no danger, but short of keeping him comfortable, there was little to be done except to let the illness run its course.

“I know you still do not feel well,” Selik said now. “Let us see what I can do.” He got to his feet and left Jim’s room, returning quickly with a tray that held a small basin of cool water, a soft cloth, a dose of the child-approved pain and fever reducer the healer had left, and a frosted glass of root beer. He set everything on the nightstand and with quick, gentle hands, he lifted Jim up and wrapped him in a quilt, depositing him in the nearby rocking chair even as Skittles, dislodged from his comfortable nest, hit the floor with an indignant yowl.

“You will have your perch back shortly,” Selik informed the cat. “Right now, I need to change Jim’s bed.” Fetching items from a wall cupboard, he quickly re-made the small bed with cool, crisp sheets and pillow cases and then lifted Jim from the chair and set him back on the bed, sitting down next to the child and removing Jim’s nightshirt so he could sponge the feverish little body before re-dressing his child and tucking him back into bed, fluffing the pillows so Jim could sit up.

“Here, Jim.” Selik handed him the gel capsules and then held the glass of root beer to his lips while Jim drank thirstily.

“The bubbles feel good on my throat,” Jim said when he was finished. Selik smoothed his hair once more, a smile lighting his eyes.

“I am glad,” he replied. “I knew someone else once who liked root beer when he was sick.”

“Really? Who?” Jim was instantly intrigued.

“I will tell you about him—one day,” Selik promised. “For now, we must concentrate on making sure you get well. You have not had any food for 5.7 hours, kan-bu. What would you like me to fix for you?”

Even sick, Jim’s face brightened. “’Sketti rings with wieners,” he said.

Selik sighed inwardly. Realizing that Jim needed to learn to make his own choices as he grew, Selik had instituted the practice of letting Jim choose what he wished to eat for dinner from the replicators one night each week. Perhaps inevitably, Jim had been drawn to cheeseburgers, fried strips of potatoes, and worst of all, pasta rings in a loathsome red sauce, with cut-up pieces of frankfurters mixed in. Selik would have liked to instantly renege on their agreement, but he felt he could not raise Jim if he did not model honorable behavior. In other words, a deal was a deal.

“You are certain that is what you wish?”

Jim nodded vigorously. “Yes, sa-mekh. The sketti rings are soft, and the wieners are slippery, so they won’t hurt my sore throat. It is quite logical.”

Selik’s eyes smiled once more. “Your use of logic is tenuous at best, small one. However, I will fetch your pasta rings with frankfurters—and some fruit and milk.”

Jim wrinkled his nose. He really didn’t like milk, but Selik had explained how it would help him grow, and Jim wanted to grow up to be as big and smart as his sa-mekh.

“M’kay.” Jim snuggled down into his fresh bedding. “It is logical to eat fruit and milk with sketti and wieners.”

“Very well. I will be back in a few minutes.” Selik pressed his lips to Jim’s forehead before rising and starting towards the door. Any Vulcan would tell him he gave the child far too much physical affection, but that was—Selik believed the term his Jim used to use was “tough shit,” although in semantic terms that made no sense at all. Nonetheless, it completely expressed Selik’s feelings regarding anyone’s opinion about too much affection for his precious charge.

“Sa-mekh?” Selik stopped and turned back to see Jim’s smile.

“Yes, small one?”

“I love you, and not just ‘cus of sketti and wieners,” Jim informed him.

Selik felt that tide of warmth that Jim could call forth from him with no effort at all.

“I love you too, k’diwa,” Selik replied tenderly. His eyes twinkled. “Even if you do insist on eating frankfurters.”

Jim’s giggles followed him down the hall to the kitchen.

 

 

The late afternoon sun, its harmful rays carefully eliminated by the coating on the windows, flooded the living room. Selik frowned over his padd, trying to decipher the equation sent in by one of his online particle physics students. I believe I may need to review some basic principles in my next lecture, he thought, resigned. Not all of his students were equally diligent, and unfortunately, not all of them possessed an eidetic memory.

Jim, fully recovered from his illness, was ensconced in his favorite spot on the rug, busily creating an entire space station constructed from something called Lego’s, a toy for human children that had endured for nearly three hundred years. Over the last year, Selik had ended up ordering Jim five sets of the interlocking blocks, as well as several accessories packs, as his kan-bu found delight in building larger and ever more elaborate constructions. If he did decide on an alternative destiny to the one Selik’s beloved bond mate had pursued, this James Kirk could be an outstanding architect. However, Selik suspected that would not be the path this Jim chose. While he enjoyed creating buildings with his toys, they nearly always took the shape of space docks or satellites, and Jim had crafted an entire fleet of space ships, each one carefully placed on a shelf in his bedroom when not being “flown,” never to be pulled apart and turned into anything else. Selik had already purchased a good-quality telescope and was introducing Jim to the stars, and his small charge showed no signs of growing bored with the galaxy.

The door chimed and both Jim and Skittles, lying in a patch of sunshine, scrambled to their feet. “Company!” Jim exclaimed joyfully. “Can I go answer the door, sa-mekh?”

“You may,” Selik replied indulgently. Jim had grown sufficiently that the door was no longer too heavy, and there was no one on Vulcan who would come to their door and attempt to harm a child. Jim scampered out of the room and down the hall, the feline in hot pursuit. Selik rose and followed with somewhat lesser speed and greater dignity, reaching Jim just as he flung open the door.

“Manda!” Jim flung himself at their neighbor, arms wide, as Amanda bent to hug him, her eyes warm with love.

“Hello, sweetheart,” she said. “Selik told me you were feeling better; I’m glad.”

“Yes!” Jim nodded vigorously. “Sketti rings and wieners cured me. Spocky!” His smile grew wider and he spotted the small, solemn sprite standing behind Amanda, hands clasped behind his back as always and not a glossy black hair out of place.

“My name is Spock cha’Sarek,” the sprite informed Jim, as he always did. Jim just grinned back, as he always did.

“Spocky, Spock, my friend Spocky,” he sang. “Come on. Let’s go play!” Without waiting for an answer he darted back inside and down the hallway.

“Vulcans do not play,” Spock informed the universe—but he followed Jim. In the doorway, Selik and Amanda exchanged smiling looks. While Jim and Spock’s first few encounters had been less than successful, over the last two years they had developed a friendship, largely because Jim refused to take no for an answer when it came to “Spocky.” He simply welcomed him, played with him, and showered him with the same innocent affection he gave every person, pet, and object in his orbit. Even all-too-solemn half-Vulcans were not immune.

“I’m so glad you and Jim came here to live,” Amanda said now. “Having a friend so close at hand, and one that does not expect Spock to always be…”

“The perfect little Vulcan,” Selik finished. “Yes. I believe it is beneficial for Spock to meet other types of individuals, those who are not always looking at him through the…prism…of Vulcan behavior.” Selik remembered his own childhood, so long ago on another planet Vulcan. He remembered all the times when he was small, when he could not yet understand why the other children often drew back from him. He would have given anything to have known Jim then, to have had a peer who accepted him absolutely, to whom he was not the half-breed, not even the son of the High House, but simply—Spocky.

There was the sound of a crash from the living room, followed by Jim’s infectious giggles. “Come,” Selik said. “We had best see if my house is in danger of collapse.” With Jim Kirk, one never knew.

 

“Sa-mekh?”

“Yes, kan-bu.” Selik looked up from his dinner. For the past 7.2 minutes, Jim had been stealthily passing small morsels of K’toiya to Skittles, who was crouched beneath Jim’s chair as he always was at mealtimes, assured that some kind of treat would always be forthcoming. Selik knew it was an uphill battle to get Jim Kirk to eat anything he disliked, so he patiently put small servings of varied foods on Jim’s plate at every meal and contented himself if Jim took a bite or two before feeding the cat.

“How come Spocky thinks we’re not friends?”

Selik raised a brow. “Did Spock tell you this?” he asked.

Jim shook his head vigorously. “Not ‘zactly, sa-mekh, but when I say we’re friends, he says Vulcans don’t have no friends.”

“Do not have any friends,” Selik corrected gently, “and Spock is quite wrong in that assertion. Vulcans do have friends. I have friends, for example.”

“Yep,” Jim said with evident satisfaction. “You have ‘Manda and Sarek and T’Pau and all your students and those guys you play chess with and….and me! And Skittles,” he finished triumphantly.

“You are far more than a friend to me, small one,” Selik replied fondly. “However, your logic is sound in other respects. All of these people are indeed my friends, as is the feline currently eating your potion of K’Toiya,” he added with mock-sternness. Jim looked abashed—but not very.

“Skittles-fluff likes K’Toiya,” he explained, leaving unsaid the obvious. “Anyway,” he continued, bringing the conversation back to the important point, “why does Spocky say Vulcans can’t have friends?”

“Spock is a small one, like you, and he is still learning what it means to be a Vulcan,” Selik explained. “Further, he is a child of two worlds, both Vulcan and human. Therefore, he is sometimes uncertain of how he should think or feel.”

The blonde brows knit ferociously for a moment while Jim thought.

“But I’m Vulcan and human, too, cuz I was borned on Earth and I live on Vulcan, and I can speak Vulcan and I have a sa-mekh, not a daddy.”

Selik rose and stepped around the table to hug his son. “You are indeed a child of both worlds, my kan-bu, and you are very wise for your age,” he said tenderly. “I would ask that you continue to be Spock’s friend. He can learn much from you.”

“Yep.” Jim was satisfied. He knew he was smart, and he knew that Spocky needed him as a friend.

 

Selik thought later that he should have been better prepared. He had been lulled into a false sense of security by their idyll on Vulcan. He should have remembered that the universe was never a safe or pleasant place for long.

It was a bright summer morning, the air very warm. The previous year, Selik had hired workmen to create an outdoor “fort” in one of the trees for James, one cunningly designed to shade him from the sun and to catch the cool breezes from off the lake. Jim spent much of his playtime there in the hottest months, sometimes with Spock and sometimes with only the feline for company. He was there this morning, working on a new model kit Selik had brought him, a small starship that would fly be remote control. Selik was preparing to join him for the Enterprise’s (as they’d named her) maiden voyage when his link rang. Selik uttered a mild expletive, but there was no logic in ignoring the call. Jim and the Enterprise would wait for a few minutes.

He sat down at his desk and punched in the code to complete the call. Much to his surprise, it wasn’t anyone Selik knew; it was a middle-aged human in a plain, dark business suit.

“Mr. Selik?” the human asked.

“I am Selik,” he replied, not bothering to try and explain Vulcan and clan family names to this stranger.

“My name is Lorenzo de’Totra,” the human explained. “I am a family law attorney working in New Los Angeles.”

Selik told himself it was illogical to feel cold on such a warm day, but the icy chill swept through him nonetheless. “What do you wish of me?” he inquired stiffly.

The human looked almost apologetic but resolute as well. “I am contacting you on behalf of Frank James Carlson,” he replied. “He is seeking information regarding—and contact with—his nephew, James Tiberius Kirk.”


	8. Desperate Times

For an instant, Selik experienced the same nauseating sense of vertigo he’d experienced when he’d followed Nero’s ship through the worm hole, but then decades of discipline served him in good stead, and he got control of himself. He straightened in his chair and fixed the human with a look that some long-ago shipmates would have immediately recognized as dangerous. When Selik spoke, however, his voice was calm—deceptively so.

“When I adopted James, I was informed that despite strenuous efforts by Starfleet and the civilian authorities, Frank Carlson had not come forward. Therefore, full legal parental rights were granted to me, and I am not sure Mr. Carlson has any claim to make at this point. However, due to the established blood ties, if he wishes to visit Jim (under very close and careful supervision), then I suppose a logical case could be made for such.”

De’Torta looked more uncomfortable than ever, but he was plainly not backing off in terms of his message.

“I am afraid it is somewhat more complicated than that, Mr. Selik,” he said. “You see, Mr. Carlson was…not in Federation space when the issue of James’ custody arose. Therefore, he has filed a petition for the adoption of James Kirk to be…revisited by the courts.”

Selik’s guts twisted within him once more, and a cold rage, the likes of which he had not experienced since the day Nero’s ship had destroyed the Kelvin, filled his soul.

“I have been the only parent, the only security, that James has known since his infancy,” Selik said. “I will not allow his life to be disrupted at the whim of someone who is nothing more to him than a stranger with some common strands of DNA.”

“I can understand your feelings,” The lawyer said. No, Selik thought angrily. You cannot. You cannot know what Jim is to me.

“However,” De’Torta continued calmly, “the law must be followed, and Mr. Carlson, as James’ only living relative, does have the right to pursue this issue. I am sure that the courts will make a fair and equitable judgment, and of course, you are welcome to consult an attorney of your own; in fact, I would urge you to do so. I am certain that Mr. Carlson will be agreeable to you having at least some contact with James, although of course there will be certain—impediments, considering the distances involved. You see, Mr. Carlson plans to settle on Rigel Seven. We will be in touch in a few days, after we have spoken to our client about his schedule for a visit and his views on a possible custodial arrangement for James. Your cooperation will be appreciated, Mr. as Selik. We’ll be in touch.” The screen went dark, and Selik sat for a long time looking at it, feeling his hands slowly clench into fists.

Cooperation? Not if it means giving Jim to that…individual, he thought grimly. If I have to flee with my child to the Orions, I will. Jim will be safe and loved, as long as I still breathe.

 

For the next few days, Selik took no direct action, and he spoke to no one about the call. His Jim had long ago taught him that a strategy was useless if others divined it before it was implemented, so he continued with his routine each day and each evening, once Jim was asleep, Selik sat awake late into the night and researched every Federation and Vulcan law he could find regarding the rights of blood relatives once an adoption was finalized. He also spent hours tracking Frank Carlson’s movements over the past few years. Someone had done an excellent job of trying to erase Mr. Carlson’s virtual footprint—but Selik had lost none of the computer skills that had once made Commander Spock the only Starfleet officer with an A-7 rating.

Frank Carlson had a criminal record going back to the age of 13. His juvenile records had been sealed as was customary, but Selik penetrated them easily, discovering a pattern of petty theft and substance abuse that continued into Carlson’s early adulthood. Then he simply disappeared for almost a decade, living somewhere in the Gemini quadrant, dangerously close to Klingon space. The area was littered with small planets and outposts, and it had a reputation for being a haunt of spies, smugglers, assassins, and flesh-traders. Amazingly, there was no record of any kind regarding Frank Carlson’s movements during those years. It was as if he had become a holy hermit—but Selik doubted that completely. Given the type of individuals Carlson had no doubt been associating with, any trace of anything illegal or unethical had no doubt been thoroughly purged. So here he was now, supposedly rehabilitated from the “errors” of his early years, and back in Federation space to claim what should never be his.

 

Selik had been intensely focused on learning all he could about Frank and educating himself on every aspect of the law (not to mention worried and apprehensive in a way no Vulcan should be, but he could not help himself), so he did not immediately notice that Jim seemed to be somewhat withdrawn, spending more time than usual alone in his tree fort. But after a day or so, Selik did notice that Jim’s appetite was off, which was faintly alarming. So Selik decided a dinner of Jim’s favorite pasta rings with frankfurters was in order—but Jim ate almost none of it, sitting at the table and pushing the food around on his plate, pausing only to slips pieces of frankfurters to the cat beneath his feet. Worn with long hours of research that were only fueling his fears, Selik finally looked up from his salad and focused on his son, frowning slightly with concern.

“Kan-bu,” he said in a tone of gentle reproof, “you must eat more in order for your growth to continue.”

Jim reacted in a way that he never had before. With a crash, the plate hit the floor and shattered as Skittles hissed and bolted from the room, while Jim burst into tears.

“Jim!” Selik was out of chair in an instant, reaching for Jim and picking him up. Small arms went around his neck in a stranglehold as Jim buried his face in Selik’s shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” Jim wept. “I’ll be good. Don’t make me go ‘way, sa-mekh. Please don’t.”

“Oh, Jim.” Heartsick, Selik cuddled him close, carrying the sobbing child into the living room and sitting down in the rocking chair.

“Shhh,” he soothed, rocking Jim and gently rubbing his back. “Please, k’diwa, do not cry. I am not angry with you. You are not bad. Hush, now, my dearest.” He rocked and patted until the choking sobs finally died away.

“Please don’t make me go ‘way from you and Skittles-fluff and Spocky,” Jim whispered at last. “Please—papa. Do not make me go ‘way.” Selik’s heart felt as if it were weeping blood. Jim had never called him ‘papa’ before.

“My poor kan-bu.” The thin, worn hand moved softly over the tumbled blond hair.

“I will be better, I promise,” Jim sniffed.

“My precious child, you could be no better than you are,” Selik replied softly.

“Then how come I gotta go away?”

Selik sighed. “Jim, what makes you think you must go away?”

Jim hid his face in Selik’s shoulder. “The day we was making the Enterprise fly, Skittles-Fluff was hungry, so I came in to get him a snack,” he quavered.

Despite his worry and grief, Selik had to smile. He suspected that the feline was not the one who had wanted a snack. “And then what happened?” he asked gently.

“You was on the link talking to some strange man and you sounded mad, sa-mekh. Then the man said that I had to have a cust-toad-de-all arrangement.” Jim carefully sounded out the word he had heard.

“Do you know what that is, kan-bu?”

Jim nodded. “I asked my Little Smarty Computer about it. It means I…I have to go live with someone else and I can’t see you no more or Spocky or ‘Manda and…and… don’t want to!” The tears welled up and overflowed once more, and Jim buried his face in Selik’s robe, small shoulders shaking in a tempest of grief.

“Jim. Oh my child, do not weep so. You will make yourself ill.”

“I have to cry,” Jim whimpered. “My heart hurts too much.”

“I know, k’diwa,” Selik whispered. “My heart hurts, too.” He tucked Jim’s head beneath his chin and rocked him until the tears finally stopped. Selik then rose to his feet and carried Jim into the bathroom, bathing the flushed little face with cool water. Then he picked Jim up once more and carried him back to the kitchen, setting him in his booster chair. Selik bent and kissed the top of Jim’s head.

“I do not usually advocate dessert instead of dinner,” he said gently, “but this once I think an exception can be made.”

 

Selik was relieved to see that Jim was eating his bowl of ice cream, even if it wasn’t with his usual enthusiasm. Selik forced himself to eat a few mouthfuls of the creamy frozen confection as well.

“Small one,” Selik said at last. “I had not wished to burden you with knowledge too great for your years. However, I feel I have made an error. This concerns you, Jim; you deserve to know what is happening.” Selik thought for a moment, trying to choose how to begin. “Jim, you know that you are my adopted son, correct?” Nearly two years ago, Selik had explained what adoption was and how Jim was even more special than many other children, because Selik had chosen him from many others to be his son.

Jim nodded vigorously. “Yeah, you ‘dopted me ‘cus you love me, and you came and took me away from the bad cold home and brought me to Vulcan and got me Skittles-Fluff. And you feed me ‘sketti rings and wieners when I’m sick, and you teach me to use a computer and how to swim and how to fly the Enterprise.”

“That is correct,” Selik replied. “I do love you, kan-bu, very much, and it has been my privilege to care for you. But I am not related to you by blood, like Spock is related to his parents. For that reason, there is a chance that someone else could claim you. What you overheard—you are right. The man I was talking to is a lawyer on Earth.”

“How come he wants me to go ‘way?”

“He has been hired by a person named Frank Carlson,” Selik explained. “Mr. Carlson is your mother’s brother. He is your kin, related to you by blood, and he wishes for you to go and live with him.”

“But…he doesn’t take care of me; you do,” Jim said, bewildered. “And I love you and Skittles-Fluff and Spocky and…”

“I know, and I love you, my child. You are the dearest part of my life, Jim. Never forget that, no matter what happens. I do not wish for you to leave, and I will do all I can to keep that from happening. I never want to lose you, kan-bu. But this Frank Carlson does have rights under the law. He is your family, Jim.”

“No.” Jim’s voice was firm. “He didn’t come get me from the cold bad home, sa-mekh. You did. You are my family, sa-mekh, you and Skittles-Fluff.”

“Mewup!” Skittles, eating a scoop of vanilla ice cream from a saucer on the floor, added her emphatic agreement.

And as far as Jim was concerned, that was that.

 

As the days went by, Selik became more and more quietly frantic. He had researched every aspect of Federation and Vulcan law, and because Frank Carlson had not been “properly” notified before the adoption took place, he could demand that it be rendered null and void—and it was quite possible that a family judge would feel that Jim should be reunited with one related to him. As de’Torta had promised, there had already been a sub-space conference call and Frank Carlson, who also attended via vid, scrubbed and shiny in what was obviously a new suit, trying to project sincerity and caring through every pore—but even at a distance, Selik swore he could smell the snake oil, as his Jim would have said.

The family court judge was a bloated, pompous individual who immediately reminded Selik of Harry Mudd. His sympathy for Carlson’s petition was immediate and obvious. He felt that it was in Jim’s best interest to “reunite him with his closest relative.”

“Your Honor, I must register my client’s disagreement with your position.” T’Luminareth was a family attorney in more than one sense of the word—she specialized in children’s rights cases, and she was a member of the House of Surak. “Selik has cared for James and provided him with an environment which has ensured the child’s optimum development.”

“That is not a point of contention,” de’Torta noted. “My client is deeply grateful to Mr. Selik for his care of James. However, the fact remains that Mr. Carlson is James’ nearest relative, and he has a deep and abiding wish to make a home for his orphaned nephew.”

“He has a home, one where he is happy,” Selik spoke up.

“No one argues that you have not given James a fine home; however, I cannot help but think that James would benefit from an upbringing that honors his human heritage,” Mudd’s double said patronizingly. “Even with the best of intentions, you cannot understand the emotional needs of a human child.”

Truly? I am half-human and know far more of emotional needs than you ever will. But Selik could not say that; he could not risk awkward questions that might destroy his carefully-crafted identity.

“Your Honor, there is no logic in acknowledging on one hand that James has a fine home and then ruling on the other that it is not a satisfactory home,” T’Luminareth argued, but the judge would not be swayed.

“I feel it is appropriate to continue this case,” he said firmly. “I therefore rule that Mr. Carlson shall be allowed to travel to Vulcan in order to interact with his nephew and be observed by court-appointed child-care workers, who will report back to this court as to the advisability of making this sundered family whole.”

T’Luminareth protested but to no avail. Just before the transmission ended, Selik caught the self-congratulatory smirk that crossed Carlson’s lips.

 

Selik had no choice but to continue trying to find a solution, but as the days went by too swiftly, T’Luminareth’s efforts bore no fruit, and Selik's research yielded no leverage that could be used against Carlson.

Selik tried to shield Jim, but his child obviously knew there was still trouble. He said little, but one night, after Jim was asleep, Selik stepped quietly into his room to put fresh clothing in the wall cupboard—only to discover Jim’s small suitcase, carefully packed, hidden at the back of the shelf behind some folded quilts. Selik’s heart sank. He knew that no matter what he said to Jim, if the child was unhappy with Frank, he would run away. The thought of his child, so young and vulnerable, alone and in danger, froze Selik’s soul—and tripled his resolve. There had to be a way, even if he and Jim must become fugitives. But perhaps—perhaps there was another way.

 

“Sir?”

Sarek looked up from the inevitable stack of documents that were part of the price of being an ambassador. He had been in the city for more than two weeks, meeting with members of the Vulcan High Council to finalize the planet’s positions at the upcoming Federation High Council season, as well as dealing with House business. Now he was pulled away from that focus by his assistant, S’Lah.

“Yes?”

“The honorable Selik from your House asks for a brief meeting,” S’Lah said.

Sarek was faintly surprised, but he set his work aside. “Of course,” he replied. “Please show him in.” S’Lah nodded and left the room. In a few moments, Selik stood in the doorway.

“Thank you for agreeing to see me.” Selik inclined his head as Sarek rose to his feet and crossed the room. Selik was an elder, after all; logic dictated such courtesy.

“Join me. Make yourself comfortable.” Sarek gestured towards the seating area and waited until Selik took a chair. “May I offer refreshments?” Privately, Sarek thought his guest could use refreshing—Selik looked unusually tired and worn.

“No; I thank you.” Selik took a chair and Sarek followed suit.

“How may I serve my kinsman?” Sarek asked formally.

“I am facing a difficulty,” Selik replied. “I have come to seek the wisdom of your counsel.”

“By all means.” Sarek waited but Selik did not begin immediately. After a long moment of looking down at his hands, he actually sighed. Finally he raised his head and met Sarek’s gaze.

“It is about Jim,” he began, and Sarek sat quiet and attentive as Selik, with his usual precision, explained the events of the last weeks. “I cannot allow Frank Carlson to claim Jim. Although I cannot prove ill-intent, I am certain Carlson is not planning to raise Jim out of any affection or even sense of duty.”

“Based on what you have uncovered regarding his history—and more significantly, what you could not discover—I am inclined to agree with your analysis of the situation,” Sarek replied gravely. “However, without that definitive proof, I regret that I am not sure what can be done.”

Selik took another deep breath. “I realize this is irregular,” he said, “but I feel it is imperative for me to make this request. Would you allow me to join my mind with yours?”

Twice in a day, Sarek was surprised. However, there was no logic in refusing this request from a kinsman. “If you believe it will be helpful.”

Selik nodded. “I believe so; however, I should note that it will prove—somewhat unsettling.”

Sarek arched a brow. “Indeed? I will bear that in mind, kinsman.” He rose to his feet and move to the chair next to Selik’s.

“Very well.” Selik turned in his chair to face Sarek, reaching out to find the meld points. Sarek closed his eyes as he felt the first mental touch, surprisingly—sophisticated in its surety.

“My mind to your mind,” Selik whispered. “My thoughts to your thoughts.” See me, Sarek, a voice spoke within their joined minds. See the truth of me.

Sarek opened his mind—and fell into another universe.


	9. Desperate Measures

An eternity later, Sarek’s consciousness re-formed around him, and he felt Selik’s mind gently withdrawing from his. With a gasp, Sarek opened his eyes, feeling the wetness of tears on his cheeks.

Forgive me,” Selik said quietly. “As you are aware, emotional transference is often a side-effect of the mind meld.”

“Yes,” Sarek murmured, still trying to absorb and comprehend all that he had seen and felt, the extraordinary sum of this man’s life.

Selik rose to his feet. “I believe we could both use a cup of tea—or perhaps something stronger.”

 

Sarek sipped the hot cocoa, well laced with cinnamon, still trying to comprehend the incredible. He regarded the man sitting opposite him, this elder who was more than a century his senior.

“You are…Spock.”

Selik nodded. “It is a difficult metaphysical and philosophical concept to grasp,” he replied. “I am not your son, Sarek—yet I am Spock cha’Sarek of the House of Surak, son of the Vulcan Ambassador to Earth and his wife, Amanda Grayson. I was raised on Vulcan and Earth, joined Starfleet and became an officer and later a captain, then started a new career as an ambassador, as you saw within my mind.” He reached over and refilled Sarek’s mug, and the other man did not protest.

“Extraordinary,” Sarek said at last. “To think that the parallels would be this complete.”

“Agreed,” Selik replied. “Indeed, in purely theoretical terms, it is a fascinating experiment, albeit not always easy to live through.”

“When you came here to Vulcan, was it your plan that we would meet?”

Selik shook his head. “To my shame, I never considered that possibility,” he replied ruefully. “I was more concerned about establishing a life for myself—and for Jim, a legacy from my past in his own way.”

Sarek recalled the glimpses he’d seen in Selik’s mind, the human with the glowing amber eyes who was the center of the older Vulcan’s universe for so many years.

“So the small one you care for now…”

“Just as I am not the same individual as your son, my kan-bu is not the James Kirk who was my captain, my friend, and my t’hy’la,” Selik replied. “However, I could no more turn my back on him than I could on my James, were he to appear once more in my reality. To have this James in my life now, after so many decades without the one who was my greatest treasure—it is a gift beyond all price and it is a sacred obligation. I must bear the knowledge that I am part of the reason this Jim Kirk has no family. I cannot abandon him to one I feel will use him and perhaps harm him irreparably. No matter the cost, Frank Carlson must not be allowed to prevail.” Selik fell silent, the enormity of his problem once again overwhelming him.

“So, what do you intend to do?” Sarek asked quietly. “Fleeing with James outside Federation space carries its own risks, as I am sure you comprehend. I cannot in good conscience urge you to that path, although I can assure you that if you choose it, none among us will betray your destination.”

“I appreciate that.” Selik sighed deeply. “I am loathe to take Jim away from the home he has grown to love and subject him to a life always in flight and hiding, but I confess, I do not know what other path to take.”

Sarek was silent for long moments, thinking of all he had seen in Selik’s mind—a story of love and loyalty that spanned both time and space, a devotion that not even death could destroy. At last he looked up and met Selik’s’ eyes once more.

“There is a way,” he said. “There is one way that guarantees Frank Carlson will never have a claim on young James.”

Selik drew a swift breath, dawning hope in his eyes. “I did not think you would even consider that option.”

Sarek gave his no-quite son a slight but definite smile. “After what I have learned and seen within your mind,” he said quietly, “I find it quite illogical to deny to my son the possibility of such a life-changing relationship.” He rose to his feet. “Come. We have much to do—and some careful explanations to make.”

 

Amanda Grayson had dealt with many culture shocks since moving to Vulcan—but this one was beyond anything she had ever anticipated. She stared at her husband, who had flown in from the city, and at the man by his side.

“You wish me to what?”

“I wish you to give consent for me to bring Spock and young James before the Clan Mother, with a view to a bonding ceremony, my wife,” Sarek replied, unperturbed by the expression of utter incredulity on her face.

“Spock is just a baby! Jim is only a little boy! What on earth could the two of you be thinking?” She rounded on her husband, as near to angry as Sarek had seen her in years. “How could you imagine that I would simply let you…give our son away?”

“Lady Amanda,” Selik spoke up. “Please. Allow me but a few minutes to explain the situation. Believe me, neither Sarek nor I am unaware of the ramifications of this request. However, there is much you do not know yet need to know before you can make an informed decision. Allow me that chance.”

Amanda took a deep breath. “Because I’m so fond of you—and of James—I’ll hear you out, Selik. But you’re not going to change my mind,” she warned. “Nothing you can say will do that.” She was shocked at the brief but genuine smile that touched Selik’s lips.

“Never say never, Lady,” he advised as he made himself comfortable and waited for Amanda to take a seat.

 

A very long time later, Amanda shook her head as she looked at her husband and—well, she couldn’t think of how to describe Selik at this point. “If I didn’t know that Vulcans can’t lie…”

“Oh, we can, Lady Amanda; never believe that fable,” Selik replied serenely. “We simply try to avoid it as much as possible.”

“Thank you for complicating the rest of my married life,” Sarek told him with mock-severity. He turned to his wife, expression softening. “My own, no Vulcan can lie to another mind-to-mind. Selik’s history is exactly as he told you. We cannot know if there was a larger force that brought us all together; however, having seen the love and devotion Spock of Star Fleet gave and received because of James T. Kirk, I would not wish our son to miss that, if it is his destiny.”

“And if this is not Spock’s destiny?” Selik recognized his own mother in that question; she had never hesitated to come to the crux of any matter. He spoke up now to answer Amanda.

“If it is not, then James and I will leave Vulcan and go into hiding,” he said firmly. “It is still a large universe; I will do all I can to conceal James’ whereabouts from Frank Carlson. Even if there is compatibility now but it fades with time, I will never ask Spock or your family to hold to a bond that is not truly right. Like Sarek, I only ask that we explore the possibility.”

Amanda sighed, defeated. “I don’t want you and that darling little boy to spend the next fifteen years as fugitives,” she admitted. “If you both swear to me that Spock will be free to choose once he comes of age, no matter what else happens, I will consent.”

Selik felt the relief rush through him like a tidal wave. “Thank you,” he said quietly. “One day, James will thank you too.”

“I echo his thanks, my wife,” Sarek said. “I will make the appointment with T’Pau as soon as possible.”

 

“Sa-mekh, how come I have to wear my good clothes?” Jim asked timidly. “Do I…do I have to go live with Frankcarlson now?” Jim felt a moment of panic. He hadn’t even packed his favorite Lego’s ships yet.

Selik knelt down and smoothed the collar on Jim’s robe. “No, kan-bu,” he assured his son. “I would never hide that truth from you. No, tonight we are going to see Sarek and his family, and we are going to meet a very important and revered elder. Her name is T’Pau, and she may be able to help you stay here with us. She will ask you and Spock some questions.”

“What kind’o questions, sa-mekh?” Jim was instantly intrigued. He loved to answer questions.

“You are not allowed to know until she asks you, my child, but you must answer her the truth, no matter what the questions are. Only that way can she help.”

“M’kay,” Jim said agreeably. Lying wasn’t any fun; sa-mekh could always tell if he fibbed, and Jim bet other Vulcans could, too. “Will Spocky tell the truth, too?”

“Yes, I am certain he will.”

“M’kay,” Jim said again. “Can we come back home and have ice cream after we answer the questions?”

Selik gave him a hug. “I will see to it,” he promised.

 

“Spocky!” Rushing into Sarek’s living room, Jim was pleased to see that Spock wore his best clothes, too. He dashed over and gave Spock a quick hug, giggling as he always did because Spocky’s ears turned green whenever Jim hugged him. But the watching adults noticed that his arms went around Jim for a moment as well.

“See? I didn’t not wrinkle your best clothes,” Jim said proudly.

“You did not wrinkle my robe, and I thank you,” Spock replied solemnly.

“Jim? I wish you to meet someone.” Selik called his son over to his side, where he stood with a very tiny old lady with a thousand wrinkles and sharp black eyes like raisons.

“My son, this is Clan Mother T’Pau.”

Jim bowed and then smiled up at the old lady. “Hello, very important and revered elder Clan Mother Kapow,” he said brightly, proud that he’d remembered all her titles right. She had a lot of them!

Selik silently prayed for the floor to open and swallow him. Spock made a noise that was almost a giggle while Amanda and Sarek sought to keep their expressions neutral. But T’Pau was unperturbed.

“My name is T’Pau, small one, which does sound like thee said,” she replied. “However, it does not matter; I am myself, whatever name is used.” She looked towards Spock. “My child, will thee come and stand by James?”

“Yes, Clan Mother.” Spock moved across the floor until both he and Jim were standing side-by-side before T’Pau.

“Spock,” she addressed her young kinsman, “will thee tell me what James mean to thee? Is he thy friend?”

Spock shook his head vehemently, as Selik’s heart sank and Jim looked like he might cry. But then he spoke.

“Vulcans do not have friends, Clan Mother,” Spock said, “but that does not matter, for Jim is my brother.”

One thin black brow arched. “I see, thy brother. That is a very special relationship.” She looked at Jim. “Does thee think of Spock as thy brother, James?”

Jim nodded vigorously. “Yes, Clan Mother; Spocky is my brother and he’s my friend, too, ‘cus humans have friends. He’s even more ‘portant to me than Skittles.”

T’Pau looked to Selik. “Skittles?”

“A feline that has been Jim’s companion from the time he was an infant,” Selik explained.

“Ah, then Spock is indeed important to thee, James.” T’Pau regarded the two small ones standing before her, noticing how Jim’s hand had crept over to take Spock’s—and how Spock had allowed it. T’Pau made a decision.

“Jim, Spock; if thee would both allow, I wish to touch thy thoughts.”

Spock merely nodded, but Jim looked at Selik. “Is that okay, sa-mekh?”

“It is,” Selik replied reassuringly. “The Clan Mother will not harm thee.”

“M’kay.” Jim turned back to T’Pau. “You can look at my thoughts,” he said graciously.

She inclined her head. “I thank thee, James,” she replied solemnly. T’Pau reached out and gently found the psi points on both boys’ faces, taking a deep breath and closing her eyes as she sought within. Both boys stayed still, and Selik found himself holding his breath, which was illogical, of course. After long moments, T’Pau opened her eyes and withdrew from both young minds. She looked to Sarek.

“Son of my son,” she said, “I do find a nascent bond within these minds. If thou and Selik agree, I will perform the ceremony.”

Sarek looked to Amanda, who nodded with tears in her eyes, moved by the way Spock stood there so patiently with Jim’s hand in his. Selik nodded as well.

“I freely give my consent,” he said. “Let it be done.”

 

Frank Carlson had only been on Vulcan for an hour, but he already fucking hated the place. Creepy bug-eyed, bat-eared Vulcans everywhere, not a goddamned drink except tea or fucking fruit juice to be found in any of the space port’s lounges, and hot enough to make his balls melt down his leg, even with the environmental systems in place. Ah, but it would all be worth it. In a few short hours, he would meet the little brat his sister had whelped before dying, and he would charm little Jim and stake his claim. He had a suitcase full of cheap toys, and the little turd would be won over easily. His lawyer had already assured him that no matter how this old bastard Selik dragged on, Federation courts would not deny Frank custody of his “dear” nephew. Goddamned good thing, too. Frank broke out in a sweat that had nothing to do with the weather as he remembered just why he needed to get his hands on that little blonde whelp. First, Jim’s net worth was more than 400,000 credits and growing, since that crazy old Vulcan never touched any of Jim’s funds for his maintenance, as he was entitled to do. Frank wouldn’t make that mistake, 400,000 would go a long way towards paying off some debts. And the one debt that couldn’t be paid with cash—well, Jim would help there, too.

Girden of Praxius Four had a hankering for young boys, the younger the better, and Frank had gotten in deep with the old pirate in order to feed his habits. But the planetary authorities, dealing with a surge of flesh-peddling cases and urged by the Federation that was offering them aid, had clamped down on immigration of any child under the age of eighteen, unless of course, he or she was accompanied by a family member. Frank grinned tightly, remembering the holo-vids of Jim his lawyer had obtained. Girden was instantly hungry for that tender little body to grace his couch, and Frank would be happy to oblige. The little brat meant nothing to Frank, after all.

Finally through customs, Frank paused and looked around. The judge, urged on by his lawyer, had issued clear instructions—Frank was to be met at the port and given every courtesy during this visit. Frank didn’t see the kid, but as he was standing scanning the area, the crowds seemed to part and he spotted that old fossil Selik who had stolen Frank’s flesh and blood, making his way across the terminal, accompanied by a vigorous-looking middle-aged Vulcan and a dried-up prune of an old woman. Frank put on a solemn yet agreeable face and strode forward to meet them.

“Selik?” he said heartily, holding out his hand. “Frank Carlson. I’m so pleased to meet you and so grateful for your care of my darling little James.”

His hand was not taken. Selik simply nodded.

“Mr. Carlson.”

“Oh, sorry.” Frank dropped his hand. “I forgot; you folks don’t shake hands.”

“I do on occasion—but never yours,” Selik responded coldly. He turned to his companions. “Allow me to introduce the Clan Mother of the House of Surak, T’Pau, and the Vulcan Ambassador to the Federation, Sarek.”

Reminding himself to stay cool, Frank ignored Selik’s insult and nodded to the other two Vulcans with the best grace he could muster. “It’s kind of you to come out and welcome me,” he said. He looked around, feigning interest. “I don’t see little Jimmy.”

“No, nor will you see him—ever,” the man named Sarek said, his voice as cold as Selik’s.

The old woman removed a data chip from a pocket in her sleeve and handed it to the flabbergasted Frank. “Thy lawyer will wish to review this, but all is in order,” she said with measured calmness. “Thy nephew, James Kirk, is legally bonded to my great-grandson, Spock cha’Sarek. Under Vulcan law, James must be raised with his intended, within the protected confines of his House. Vulcan’s treaty with the Federation gives our laws regarding heritage and mating precedence.” The old bitch’s face was perfectly blank, but Frank still felt as if she were sneering at him. “There is no longer any question of thee taking custody of James. Here he is, and here he will stay. Normally, thee would be welcome to live here until James reaches his majority; however, Vulcan does not accept those with criminal records, even juvenile ones, as immigrants.” She nodded, and from nowhere, two Spaceport guards, humans in black leather, materialized.

“Since thy visa to stay on this planet has been voided by the fact that thee no longer has any purpose here, I would bid thee a safe trip back to Earth.” She nodded to the waiting guards. “Please see that Mr. Carlson is made comfortable—and that he finds a seat on the next shuttle, at my expense.”

“You…you can’t do this!” Frank gasped.

“It is done,” T’Pau replied. “Thy lawyer is free to file any petition thee wishes, but the law is the law, and James is now our responsibility. Good day to thee.” The three turned away, but not before Selik looked at Frank.

“I give you Jim’s greetings,” he said formally, “and his farewells.”

With that, the three were gone, leaving Frank Carlson standing impotent and enraged in the middle of the concourse, nothing to show for his pains but a ticket back to Earth.


	10. New Vistas

“Sa-mekh, are we poor now?”

Selik looked up from packing some of his books. Jim was on the rug, carefully wrapping each of his Lego’s starships in a thick cocoon of bubble wrap before placing each in its designated packing box.

Selik raised a brow. “Why do you ask, kan-bu?” He sat down in their favorite chair and held out his arms. “Come here,” he requested gently and Jim scooted across the room and crawled into Selik’s lap.

“Now, tell me why you are suddenly concerned about our finances,” Selik said.

Jim snuggled close, the bright eyes looking trustfully into Selik’s face. “Cuz we gotta go live with Sarek and ‘Manda and Spocky,” he explained. “In some of my storybooks, when people are poor, they have to go live with other people. I thought maybe making Frankcarlson go ‘way cost you lots of money, and we were poor now.”

Selik hugged his son close, hiding his smile in the riot of blond curls. “Although I would have given every credit I have if needed, I did not have to pay Frank Carlson to go away, kan-bu,” he assured Jim. “Clan Mother T’Pau informed him that since you and Spock are to be bonded, you are now legally a member of the House of Surak. It is a great honor, and it is why we are moving with Sarek and his family to Earth. It is proper for you and your future bond mate to be near one another. You do not wish to be separated from Spock, do you?”

Jim shook his head vigorously. “On, no. I want to stay with Spocky.”

“Well, then, we must go to Earth, where Sarek has his work,” Selik explained. “Sarek has graciously offered to let us live with his family in the very large house maintained by the Vulcan Embassy, and since he was so kind as to offer, I did not feel I could refuse his generosity. However, I assure you, we are not poor.”

“That’s good,” Jim said, relieved. He squirmed off of Selik’s lap. “I gotta go find bad fluff and tell him we’re not poor.” He skipped out of the room, Selik watching him go.

In truth, the decision to go to Earth with Sarek’s family had been one with several elements, and Selik and Sarek had discussed those elements at length.

“There are those within the Clan who are not best pleased that Spock has been promised to a human,” Sarek had admitted. “Further, there are those who suspect that the entire bonding was—I believe the humans call it a put-up deal—and they find that completely distasteful. If you and James are left behind, there may be talk or more than talk, and I find that prospect quite unacceptable.”

“I agree,” Selik replied. “Further, I am not completely certain that Frank Carlson has been permanently discouraged, and I am not ashamed to state that you and your House can offer Jim far more protection than can one elderly Vulcan of undistinguished antecedents.”

“Hardly undistinguished, simply—unacknowledged,” Sarek replied with the faintest hint of a twinkle in his eye. Selik marveled yet again at how…easy…his relationship with this Sarek had become. In this universe, they were equals instead of father and son, and that seemed to make all the difference. Or perhaps this Sarek was simply a slightly more accepting individual. It was an interesting philosophical question, but the practical result was what mattered.

“In all events, I have no objections to becoming part of your household, nor do I object to spending some years on Earth if your work requires it. My work can be done anywhere I have a computer and access to the ‘Net.”

“Very well. I will start making the travel arrangements, and she who is my wife can start packing everything we own, as she will no doubt insist that we cannot procure clothing or household items on Earth.”

“Indeed.” One corner of Selik’s mouth twitched. “After all, Earth has no history of providing consumer goods. The hardship will be comparable to living on a frontier planet, no doubt.”

“Indeed. However, we will survive, no matter how inhospitable the circumstances.” That twinkle was back in Sarek’s eye. He rose to his feet. “I am gratified that you and James are coming with us,” he said quietly. “I know Amanda and Spock will feel the same. It will be good for Spock to have a companion in this new environment.”

Selik got to his feet as well. “There is nothing I would not do for your son, Sarek, just as there is nothing I would not do for mine,” he replied. “And I agree with you. I remember when I first moved to Earth. Having a close companion would have been most gratifying indeed.”

 

So it had been decided, and Jim and Selik packed and readied themselves for the journey back to Earth.

“Bad fluff get in fluff cage,” Jim said sternly on the morning of their departure. Skittles simply plopped down on the rug and began to tongue-bathe his hindquarters with vigor.

“No scrub poop-hole now; get in fluff cage!” Jim insisted. Skittles regally ignored him, and Selik finally crossed the room to gently…assist…Skittles into his carrier.

“Bad fluff go to Earth with us,” Jim lectured the crestfallen cat. “No toys if you stay here.”

“Merrup,” Skittles replied as Selik picked up the carrier.

“Come, kan-bu,” he said. “We must go and meet Sarek’s family at the departure port.”

Jim picked up his tiny overnight bag—which at this point contained only his Lego model of the Enterprise, his most important possession next to Skittles—and looked around their cottage, his face wistful. “Sa-mekh, will we ever come back here?”

“I do not doubt it,” Selik assured him. “But for now, we will make our home on Earth.”

“With Spocky,” Jim sang, brightening up at once as he skipped out the door.

 

The Vulcan Ambassador and his party had spacious and comfortable quarters aboard the passenger cruiser the John Glenn, and no sooner were they settled than Jim was plastered to the nearest viewing port.

“Spocky! Come see stars!”

Spock, dressed in a travelling cloak that was a miniature of his father’s, edged closer to the portal.

“It is…safe?” His voice was very quiet; he did not want the adults to know that he was…intimidated by his first trip aboard a star cruiser. But there was only a thin layer of transparent aluminum between him and all those stars.

“Is okay.” Jim slipped an arm around the narrow shoulders. “I was scared too the first time I flied on a ship, but I’m big now, and we’re together. We don’t have to be ‘fraid of nothing. Look, Spocky! So many stars!”

“Indeed.” Spock said no more, but the glow of the stars was in his eyes, and for the rest of the journey to Earth, he and Jim spent hours by the portal, absorbed in the spectacle of the universe.

 

Upon their arrival on Earth, Ambassador Sarek and his party were quickly waved through customs and ushered to an air-car with a uniformed driver, sent by the Vulcan Embassy. There was room for all, and a second air-car, quietly arranged in advance by Sarek, was available for their luggage, including Skittles, who protested mightily over being back in his carrier after more than a week of freedom aboard the cruiser.

“Be quiet, bad fluff. You go with ‘Manda’s illogical pile,” Jim told his pet. Amanda, standing nearby, giggled when she heard him.

“My illogical pile, sweetheart?”

“Yes,” Jim said guilelessly. “That’s what Sarek called it.”

“Really?” Amanda favored her spouse with a mock-glare. “I see we will have to have a discussion about my logical concern for the comfort of my family.”

“Yes, my wife,” Sarek replied impassively. “For now, however, I will supervise the loading of the illogical pile.”

“Come on, boys.” Amanda put her arms around Jim and Spock. “Let’s see if there are any animal crackers left in my bag. You’re probably hungry, and we won’t be eating dinner for a while yet.”

There were animal crackers, of course. A good diplomatic wife, Amanda was prepared for any contingency.

 

The Vulcan Embassy in San Francisco was one of the oldest on Earth, just as the Vulcans were one of the first races to open diplomatic relations with the humans after the invention of warp drive and the discovery of other cultures beyond Sol’s system. The Vulcans felt that it was only logical to establish a presence on Earth, if for no other reason than to gradually accustom humans to the idea that there were other sentient beings in the galaxy with whom a relationship could be developed. Accordingly, the Vulcan Embassy had grown over the years and was now a compound that included offices, a tourism bureau, an elegant building housing reception rooms, and living quarters for the Ambassador and his family, all surrounded by a high wall for privacy and a beautifully-maintained garden and lawns.

 

“Oh, this is perfect.” Amanda stood in the doorway of one of the suites, looking around the sunlit space with a feeling of satisfaction. “Jim, Spock, these can be your rooms. Look, there are two bedrooms, a nice big bathroom, and a room that can be a playroom and study.”

Jim peered in and nodded. “It’s pretty,” he said. He turned to Selik. “But sa-mekh, where will you live?”

Selik gestured across the hall. “These rooms will suit me well, if you agree, Amanda.” She nodded.

“Since Sarek and I are in the other wing, I’ll feel better knowing you’re close if the boys need something in the night,” she said. She gave Jim and Spock a smile. “So, now that that’s settled, what say we start unpacking my illogical pile.”

“I’ll help,” Jim said happily. “I unpack good, and bad fluff will help, too. Come on, Spocky.” With that, Jim was off down the corridor to where Amanda’s “illogical pile” was waiting, Spock obediently following in his wake. Amanda turned to Selik.

“He’s never more than a few steps away from Jim,” she noted quietly. “Ever since T’Pau touched their minds, it’s like they’re joined at the hip. I’m beginning to believe you and my husband were right; they are meant to be together.”

“I am sure of it,” Selik replied.

 

That night, Jim lay in his brand-new bed, made up by Selik with Jim’s favorite Star Wars sheets, and with his light saber nightlight plugged in by the door. Jim was sleepy and happy; he could already tell he was going to like living with Sarek and ‘Manda and Spocky and sa-mekh here on Earth. Next week, he and Spocky were going to start going to a special school for the children of ambassadors. Since he was now Sarek’s son as well as sa-mekh’s, Jim guessed that made him an ambassador’s child, too, and that was fine if it meant he could go to school with Spocky. There would be other kids to make friends with, too, and that would be loads of fun. And then every night, he could come home and have supper with Sarek and ‘Manda and sa-mekh and tell them all about what he learned. Jim snuggled down into his pillows with a happy sigh, hearing Skittles purring at the foot of the bed, pleased to be out of his carrier and on the furniture where he belonged.

Just as Jim was closing his eyes and preparing to fall asleep, he heard a sound, a very small sound, a footfall so light it sounded like a ghost. Maybe it was a ghost, Jim thought with a thrill. Did Vulcan ambassadors have ghosts? That would be neat. Jim wasn’t scared; he had Skittles to protect him and sa-mekh was right across the hall. So Jim sat up and looked around to see if he could spot the ghost—but it wasn’t a ghost at all. It was Spock, standing in the doorway between their rooms.

“Spocky?” Jim blinked. “Are you sick?”

“No.” Spock stood in the doorway in his sehlat footie pajamas, his face solemn in the soft light from the nightlight.

“Are you lonesome?” Jim asked softly. He could understand that; this was a brand-new place, and Spocky didn’t even have bad fluff to keep him company.

Spock nodded slightly and Jim threw back his blanket. “Come here,” he invited. Spock didn’t smile but his face lighted up and he scampered across the room and into bed. Jim carefully fluffed an extra pillow to tuck under Spock’s head and pulled the blankets over them both, snuggling down once more.

“There,” he whispered. “Now if there’s a ghost, he won’t be able to get us.”

“Ghosts are illogical,” Spock whispered back, but he slid a bit closer to Jim, and Jim put his arm over Spock’s body.

“Night, Spocky.”

“Good night, Jim.”

The following morning, Selik found them curled up together, both sound asleep, a dark head and a bright one on the same pillow, a purring cat draped over both like an afghan. A tender smile flitted across Selik's face, and he tiptoed away to get Amanda, knowing she would want this memory as well.


	11. Strange New Worlds

Jim was singing at the breakfast table. This in itself was not a rare occurrence; Jim sang frequently, when he was happy, when he wanted to be happy, and on occasion, he sang when he just wanted to be noisy. This song, however, was a new one.

“We’re going to school today; we’re going to school today. Hooray! Hooray! Hooray! We’re going to school today!” Jim sang as he tucked into his cornflakes.

“Kan-bu, I am gratified that you are looking forward to school,” Selik said. “However, please do not let your enthusiasm lead you to choking.”

Jim swallowed and grinned. “Okay, sa-mekh. I’ll sing on the way to school.”

“I am sure our driver will enjoy that,” Sarek said, poker-faced. Amanda gently kicked him under the table and turned to her son.

“And how about you, sweetheart?” she asked. “Are you looking forward to school as well?”

Spock nodded solemnly. “An education is important,” he said.

“And fun!” Jim chirped, reaching for a piece of toast.

And there, Selik thought fondly, was the difference between those two in a nutshell—Jim’s overwhelming enthusiasm and Spock’s sharply-focused rationality. How lucky they are, he thought as he had so often, that they found one another so young. Each will help the other achieve whatever he sets out to do. Each will cheer on successes and offer comfort after defeats.

 

Jim and Spock’s school was only a few blocks from the Embassy, and on fine days, Selik or Amanda planned to walk with the boys. This day, however, it was raining and chilly as only a San Francisco spring can be, so Sarek’s driver took the boys to school in the air car, with Selik riding along to make sure they found their classroom.

The car pulled up to the drop-off point for students, where a staff member was waiting in a rain slicker in order to watch the children and direct traffic if needed. The car had barely stopped before Jim was out of it, skipping over to the female staff member who stood by the door with a padd, checking in each student.

“Hi! My name is Jim,” Jim announced, smiling up at her. “Spocky and I are going to school here today! We’re gonna be here every day. Will you be here every day?”

The woman looked down at the small friendly face beaming up at her and smiled. “Why, yes,” she said. “My name is Miss Randall, and I will be here each day to check you in.”

“Oh, goody!” Jim hollered. He whirled around and hurried back to Selik and Spock, who were just getting out of the car.

“Spocky, I found a new friend! Come on!” He grabbed Spock’s hand and pulled him along.

“My name’s Jim and that’s Spock, but I call him Spocky,” he announced to the staff member, just as Selik came up to the door as well.

“Good morning, miss,” Selik said. “This is James Kirk cha’Selik and Spock cha’Sarek.”

“Spocky!” Jim said with his widest smile, and Miss Randall hid a smile of her own.

“Yes, you are both here, scheduled to start in Room 101,” she said. She turned to Selik. “They will be finished for the day at 1 p.m. Will someone be here to pick them up, or do we need to arrange transportation?”

“They will be met,” Selik assured her. “Either I will come or Amanda Grayson cha’Sarek, Spock’s mother, will be here to collect them.”

“Very well.” She made a note on the padd as Selik turned to Jim and Spock, smoothing down Jim’s hair and smiling at his son with his eyes.

“You are both embarking on a great journey,” he said. “Obey your teachers and learn well.”

“M’kay, sa-mekh.” Jim hugged his legs. “Tell bad fluff to be good, too. Come on, Spocky.”

“Good-bye, to’zat Selik,” Spock said as Jim tugged him through the door. They headed down the main hall as Selik waved.

“That’s quite a pair you have there, Mr. Selik,” Miss Randall said.

He almost smiled. “You have no idea,” he replied watching the dark head and the golden one disappear from view.

 

“Room 1-0-1,” Jim read above the door. “That’s us, Spocky.’ He started through the open door into the room full of children, and then stopped when he realized Spock was standing still. Jim turned back at once.

“Spocky, what’s wrong?” he asked. He moved closer and lowered his voice to a whisper. “Do you have to pee?” Jim knew, because sa-mekh had told him, that there would be a place for boys to pee, a place for girls to pee, and a place for those who weren’t boys or girls to pee. He was just about to go look for the right room when Spock grabbed his hand.

Spock shook his head, his face tight. “They are…strangers,” he said quietly. He peeked in the doorway, seeing children laughing, running, and playing. “And they are…loud.”

Jim’s expression softened. He knew Spocky didn’t like loud noises, although he wasn’t sure why. He loved loud noises; they were usually connected to something exciting. But he knew very well that Spocky didn’t feel that way. Privately, Jim thought it must be the ears, because sa-mekh and bad fluff didn’t really like loud noises, either.

“It’s okay,” Jim said quietly, patting the thin shoulder. “After today, they won’t be strangers no more. And you and I can find a corner where it’s quiet, okay?”

Spock took a deep breath. “It is not logical for me to be…apprehensive.”

“Sure it is,” Jim replied reassuringly, “but I’ll look after you. Come on.” He gently tugged on Spock’s sleeve and the two moved into Room 1-0-1.

 

Selik returned home, unsurprised to find Amanda “casually” waiting in the family sitting room.

“I had calculated a 94% probability that you would be lurking here waiting for me,” he said to Amanda as he settled into a chair. Skittles, who had been ‘lurking’ as well, hopped up into his lap and settled down for a session of intensive butt-scrubbing.

“I was not lurking.” Amanda tried and failed to look offended. “I simply wanted to make sure you found the school all right.”

“Of course,” Selik replied with a straight face. “Because after all, I have traveled through the galaxy and through time, but I might have difficulty finding a school five blocks from this location, especially with a professional driver accompanying me.”

Amanda giggled. “Okay, guilty as charged. Did Jim and Spock seem all right when you left?”

Selik nodded. “Jim had already charmed his first staff member,” he said. “I have no doubt he will thrive in any situation where his social skills can be utilized.”

Amanda nodded with a smile. “He was certainly ready this morning.” She sighed. “I’m afraid Spock won’t be quite so enamored of school right away. He’s not…outgoing like Jim.”

“No, but I have no doubt he will adjust,” Selik reassured her.

“Did you enjoy school when you were a child?”

Selik hesitated for a moment. “I started school on Vulcan,” he said at last. “Sadly, my classmates were not as….enlightened as one might have logically expected them to be.”

“You were teased?” Amanda asked sympathetically.

“At some levels, it was worse than mere teasing,” Selik admitted, stroking Skittles’ head as the cat, clean for the moment, purred madly. “Children can often be crueler than adults, and I was the only half-Vulcan, an unsuccessful experiment in the eyes of some. So my school days were not always happy. However, I survived them, and the lessons I learned there were of great value to me later when I joined Starfleet and was surrounded by individuals of all species and cultures. Spock and Jim will have that advantage from a young age—and they will have each other.”

“You didn’t meet your Jim when you were a child, did you?” Amanda asked softly.

“No,” Selik replied. “And if I ever envied anyone, I envy my kan-bu for having met his Spock as a child. And I am glad that this Spock will have Jim at his side to face any challenge.” His eyes twinkled. “Even the terrible challenge of primary school.”

Amanda chuckled. “Very well, I’ll admit it—I’m being an overprotective mother.”

“No,” Selik replied, warmth in his gaze. “You are simply a loving mother, as was mine.” They sat for a moment in companionable silence, and then Amanda started to get up.

“I suppose I’d best go and look at my day planner…” She froze as her pocket link started buzzing. After a moment, Selik’s did as well. They both pulled out the devices and exchanged glances.

Both messages were from the school.

 

Jim’s day had started out well, but now he was scared. He and Spocky were sitting on a long bench in something called the principle’s office. Jim knew the word “principle”—it meant really important, so the man who was sitting behind the desk must be really important, too. He didn’t look that important—he just looked sort of mad and sad at the same time. Sa-mekh called that ‘solemn.’ He was doing paperwork and ignoring them for the moment.

Jim’s hand crept over to take Spock’s. Spock was feeling mad and sad, too. But he had a good reason. When they’d gone into Room 1-0-1, it had seemed really nice at first. They’d been greeted by their teacher, Mr. Oaki, who had welcomed them both to school.

“Good morning, boys,” he’d said with a warm and genuine smile (Jim could tell when people smiled because they wanted to and when they smiled because they had to. Mr. Oaki was smiling because he wanted to).

Spock had raised his hand in that funny salute Vulcans used instead of waving. “Good day, honored teacher,” he said formally. “I am Spock cha’Sarek.”

“And my name is Jim!” Jim quickly added.

“Yes, indeed it is,” Mr. Oaki agreed. “I was told to expect you both today, and I’m glad you’re here.” He took them to the back of the room and showed them both the small cubbyholes with their names on the doors.

“You may put your coats or anything else of value in here and lock it like this.” Mr. Oaki demonstrated by gently taking Jim’s hand and pressing it to the key-pad. “See? Each storage space is coded to your handprint and no one else’s.”

“Cool!” Jim promptly opened and shut his cubbyhole three times before finally tucking away his rain slicker, while Spock quietly put away his in one motion

“What do we do now, sir?” Spock asked. Jim could tell he was nervous; he saw Spocky swallow twice quickly, and that almost always meant he was nervous.

“The first hour of the day is time for free play,” Mr. Oaki told them. “Then we will gather for story time next.”

“Cool!” Jim gave him a big smile. “I’m gonna like school.” He turned to Spock. “Come on, Spocky; let’s go look at the toys.”

The two made their way to the quietest corner, both aware that several of the other children were looking at them. Jim knew, because sa-mekh had told him so, that he and Spocky would be new in the class, and the others would take time before deciding to be friends. Sa-mekh had explained that this was a social ritual among children. Jim wasn’t totally sure what a social ritual was, but he hoped they’d decide to be friends soon. Most of the children were human, Jim saw, and there were no Klingons, much to his secret disappointment, but there was an Andorian, a bald girl with bright yellow skin that Jim thought was a Therbian, a boy with a bald stripe right down the middle of his head who was probably an Arcadian, and a Benzite girl with bright aqua skin and no hair, either. But Spocky was the only Vulcan, and Jim was the only human who was also a Vulcan, so that was cool.

“Look, Spocky! Anti-grav blocks!” Jim plopped down in front of the floating pile of brightly-colored blocks, all ready to build starships and giant four-foot-high towers. Spock knelt next to him; he wasn’t all that interested in blocks, but he liked to see what Jim’s imagination could create from them. Both boys were quickly engrossed.

“Hey.”

Jim and Spock looked up, to see a boy standing over them. Like Jim, he was human, blond and blue-eyed, although his hair was a white-blonde shade. He was maybe a year older than Jim and wearing a silvery t-shirt and blue jeans. He stood with both hands on his hips, looking at Jim and Spock with a scowl on his face.

“Those are my blocks.”

Jim was pretty sure that wasn’t true, but before he could say anything, Spocky spoke right up.

“These playthings are for the use of all the members of this class,” he said. “Therefore, they are not exclusively yours. We will not object if you wish to share them with us.”

“Oohhh,” the boy said, scowling even harder. “You think you’re hot snot.”

“He’s not snot, he’s Spock!” Jim jumped to his feet and faced the other boy. “You’re mean and you can just go ‘way and leave us alone!”

“I don’t have to,” the other boy sing-songed. He looked at Spock again and started laughing. “Look at those ears! I’ll bet they’re fake! Fake ears, fake ears!” He reached out and grabbed Spock’s ear, pulling it to see if it came off.

That was when Jim jumped him.

 

Now Jim and Spock sat in the ‘principle’ office. The other boy was in the nurse’s office, waiting until his nose stopped bleeding. Jim guessed that he and Spocky were probably going to be thrown out of the school and never allowed back, and he was sorry for that, because sa-mekh had told him that a good education was very important. But he couldn’t let anyone be mean to Spocky that way, not for all the education in the world.

The door opened, and the nurse appeared, her hand on the other boy’s shoulder. Jim looked and saw with satisfaction that the boy looked like he’d been crying, and he still had bits of Kleenex stuffed up his bloody nose.

The nurse pointed to a chair away from Jim and Spock and said, “Sit down, Sean.” The other boy did, taking a moment to stick his tongue out at Jim. Jim stuck his out right back. The nurse talked to the man behind the desk.

“The boys’ parents are here, Mr. Tilton,” She said. “Should I send them in?”

“Please do, nurse.” The man looked up from his computer as she left. In just a second the door opened and Amanda and Selik came in, along with another woman. Sa-mekh and Amanda looked worried; the woman just looked angry.

“Sean Peter Finnegan, what have you done now?” she demanded of the boy with the bloody nose.

“I didn’t do nuffin,” he muttered, but he looked at the floor with another frown

“He pulled Spocky’s ear!” Jim said loudly. “He said it was fake and tried to twist it off!”

“Hush, kan-bu.” Selik was by Jim’s side. “We will discuss the incident.” He sat down on the bench, putting an arm around Jim’s shoulders. Jim felt a bit better. Maybe sa-mekh wouldn’t hate him forever for getting kicked out of school. Amanda came up behind them and laid one hand lightly on her son’s shoulder, and Jim felt Spocky relax just a bit.

“Thank you all for coming,” Mr. Tilton said. “I am afraid there was a bit of trouble this morning.” He looked at Jim and Spock’s tormenter. “Sean, did you pull Spock’s ear?”

“I thought it was plastic,” Sean muttered.

“Whatever you thought, you know you’re not supposed to pull ears—or hair, or anything else.” Mr. Tilton looked at Jim.

“James, did you hit Sean?”

“I jumped on him and he fell down,” Jim said. “He bumped his nose on the floor and started hollering. I only jumped on him ‘cus he hurt my brother Spocky.”

“I see. Spock, is that was you witnessed?” Mr. Tilton asked kindly.

“Yes, sir,” Spock said in a low voice.

“Fibber!” Finnegan yelled.

“You’re a fibber, and you’re a meanie, too!” Jim yelled back.

Mr. Tilton sighed. “That’s enough, boys. Sean, Mr. Oaki saw the altercation, and he says that you did bump your nose on the floor after James jumped on you. And this is the third time this year that you’ve been in my office because of fighting or pranks played on other children. Your mother needs to take you home for today, and when you come back tomorrow, we will meet with the school counselor about your need for better social skills. Thank you for coming, Mrs. Finnegan.”

“I’m sorry for the trouble, Mr. Tilton.” She reached out and pulled her son to his feet. “You’re going home, and there will be no “Captain Amazing” program today, young man. You are in time-out.”

“Aw, mom,” Finnegan whined, but he followed his mother out the door. Tilton turned to Jim and Spock.

“James, it was not appropriate for you to jump on Sean,” he said gently but firmly. “I know you were just trying to protect your friend, but you should have gone to Mr. Oaki and asked him for help. But today is your first day here, and you don’t know all the rules yet. Can I have your promise that if someone is mean to you or Spock, you will get help from an adult?”

“Yes, sir,” Jim said, blinking hard. “I didn’t mean to be bad.”

Mr. Tilton smiled. “You weren’t bad, just a bit…over-enthusiastic in your defense of your brother.” He looked at Amanda and Selik. “Thank you both for coming, and I apologize for this problem. Rest assured, the staff and I will be working to make sure something like this doesn’t happen again. For today, why don’t you take the boys home? I think they’ve had an eventful morning.”

 

“I’m sorry I wasn’t logical and good, sa-mekh.” It was bedtime. Having watched while Jim washed his face and brushed his teeth, Selik was now tucking his child in bed for the night.

“Come here, kan-bu.” Selik leaned over and hugged Jim close.

“I am proud of you,” he said quietly. “While it is important to learn to get along with others, it is also important to protect those you love. This Finnegan was being cruel to Spock, and that is totally unacceptable.” He laid Jim back against his pillows and kissed his cheek.

“Go to sleep, small one,” he said. “Tomorrow we will try school again and see if we can be more successful.”

“M’kay.” Jim snuggled down under his favorite blanket. “I love you, sa-mekh.”

“And I you, kan-bu. Good night.” Selik rose and left Jim’s room, turning out the light and leaving only the glow of the light saber nightlight. He peeked in Spock’s room as he went by, but Spock was already asleep. Selik proceeded down the hall and into the main part of the house, finding Sarek and Amanda in the sitting room.

“Well,” he said, taking a seat in his favorite chair, “not the most auspicious beginning, but tomorrow is a new day.”

Amanda still looked nearly as angry as she had at the school. “That little brat. Imagine trying to pull off Spock’s ear.”

“As our kinsman observes, wife, tomorrow is a new day,” Sarek said calmly. “Children are not always ruled by logic, and this particular child seems to be a bit of a troublemaker. I will have a word with Mr. Tilton if there are further problems. For now, we can at least be comforted in the knowledge that James will defend his t’hy’la from any threat, even ear amputation. Based on what you told me, I think young Sean Finnegan may be wary before he tangles with our little sehlat again. ”

Despite herself, Amanda laughed. “I would guess you’re right, my husband.”

“And if this school prove unsuitable, there are others,” Selik noted. “We will concern ourselves with that at another time.”

 

The following morning, however, there was cause for more immediate concern.

Jim’s bed was empty. He was nowhere in the compound.


	12. Danger and Diplomatic Immunity

“Kinsman, you must be calm,” Sarek said for the sixth time in the last hour.

“Calm? How can I be calm?” Selik was pacing back and forth, eyes lambent with anger, worry, and fear. He looked, Sarek thought, like an old le-matya, the most cunning and skilled hunter of the pack, wounded, scarred, but still able to defend or attack anything that threatened him or those he loved.

“Perhaps James simply wandered away,” he suggested, even as he knew in his heart that was not likely.

“No.” Selik shook his head. “Something is wrong, very wrong.”

On the couch, huddled up against his mother’s soft and comforting body, Spock sat, holding onto his stuffed sehlat and trying very hard not to cry. He knew tears were illogical; Surak had never cried, nor did Spock’s father (Spock was sure). But tonight, seeing Selik so very worried about Jim and feeling his mother’s anxiety, and knowing that Jim was not in his warm bed where belonged but was outside, somewhere, some place where no one knew where he was—Spock blinked hard, fighting back those inappropriate tears.

“Come on, sweetheart,” Amanda said gently, hugging the warm little body close to her and thinking with dread of the little warm body that was no longer safely within her grasp. “Let’s go to the kitchen and see if there are any cookies left.”

“Cookies will not help find Jim,” Spock whispered. She kissed the top of his head.

“No, darling; you’re right. But I’ll feel better if I have a cookie and some cold milk. Don’t you think you’ll feel better, too?”

Spock did not think he’d feel any better, but he suspected that his mother was trying to distract him from her own worry about Jim, and since she was a human and fragile, he would help her. So he nodded solemnly and began to slide off the couch—only to be caught up in Amanda’s arms.

“I’m going to carry you, okay, kan-bu?” she murmured. “I want to keep you close.”

Spock decided that was a very good idea, so he wound his arms around her neck and let her carry him from the room.

“Selik, please, sit down,” Sarek said gently. “You must rest yourself. If there is a crisis to face, you must be strong enough to deal with it.”

Selik sank down into a chair, knowing in his heart that Sarek was correct. “Where are those security people?” he asked.

“They are reviewing all the security feeds, and as soon as they know anything…” Sarek’s link buzzed, and he answered.

“Yes….I see….Send me the feed….yes, to my personal comp. And contact the municipal authorities; it is plain that James is not on the Embassy’s grounds. Yes.” Sarek completed the call and turned to Selik.

“Come with me to my office,” he said. “There is something you should see.”

 

Selik frowned slightly as he and Sarek watched the security footage being played on Sarek’s comp. unit. It’s showed a male workman in an overall and brimmed cat, wheeling a rubbish container along one of the paved paths that led through the garden and to the alley behind the Embassy’s property.

“I confess, I do not see what you obviously wish me to,” he said at last.

“The cleaning and maintenance staff do not work at 11 p.m.,” Sarek said quietly. “And here; check the video from this camera.” He reached over and pushed a button, allowing the security feed to run from another angle, one where the brimmed ball cap did not cast a shadow on the human’s face. Selik’s heart went cold in his side.

In the video, Frank Carlson wheeled the rubbish can down the path and out the exit in the back garden. The door in the wall closed, and Carlson—along with his prize—was gone.

 

Jim had been very tired after his traumatic day at school, so he’d fallen deeply asleep once sa-mekh had tucked him in. But he’d awakened at once when the hand was clamped over his mouth.

“Don’t scream, you little brat,” Frank hissed. He jerked his head towards the other room where Spocky slept.

“If you make any noise at all, I’ll wring his neck.”

Jim’s stifled whimpers died away. He wanted to bite Frankcarlson’s hand and scream for sa-mekh to come and rescue him, but he was sure Frankcarlson would do just what he said; he was mean and nasty. Jim couldn’t let him hurt Spocky, no matter what, so he was silent as Frank wrapped him in a blanket, carried him out his window, and put him in the giant garbage can, wheeling him out of the compound to where a rented air car stood at the curb.

 

The authorities were immediately notified as to the identity of Jim’s abductor, and a general alert went out to local, planetary, and Sol System law enforcement agencies. However, even now, there was a very large haystack to sift through in order to find one needle, and as the weary hours of the day dragged on, there was no news of Jim or Frank Carlson.

Selik lay fully clothed on his bed, trying to meditate, having finally given into Sarek’s reasoned arguments.

“I am much younger than you and can go without sleep for many more hours,” the younger version of his father had observed. “If there is any news of Jim or Frank Carlson, you will be informed at once. Please, go and try to rest.”

So Selik had done so, reasoning that he could try to reach Jim’s mind while he meditated. But try as he might, he could not meditate; all he could think of was the prospect of getting Frank Carlson’s neck firmly between his hands and squeezing until the human’s ugly head popped off like that of a plastic doll. Selik knew his logic was failing him; he did not care. When he thought of his kan-bu, his precious legacy, in the hands of that soulless monster…

Selik also tried to reach Jim, hoping against hope that he might be able to follow a mental link to Jim’s physical location. But Jim was too young and did not possess the full familial link common between Vulcan parents and children. Selik could “feel” Jim—his kan-bu was alive, and he was frightened. But that was as much as Selik could perceive—just enough to madden him.

His link beeped. Selik was out of bed and across the room before the second beep sounded.

“Yes?”

“Sa-mekh?” There was no mistaking that quavering little voice. “Sa-mekh, I want to come home, but Frankcarlson won’t let me…”

“Jim? Jim!” But Jim’s voice was gone, to be replaced by another’s.

“Okay, you old bastard,” Frank Carlson’s voice came through the link clearly. “Jimmy was nice enough to give me your link code so we could talk. You want this little shit back in one piece, you’re going to do exactly as I say. You fuck with me in any way, and I promise you, I’ll sell this kid to an Aldcarrien brothel. He’ll be sucking cock before his next birthday.”

Selik willed himself to calmness, sealing his rage beneath a layer of ice. “I understand,” he said calmly, coolly, as in control as he’d been all those years ago when he’d negotiated the Romulans into the Federation. “I will do whatever you ask. Just tell me.”

“Very good,” Frank said approvingly. “Stay smart, and maybe we can all come out of this with what we want. Now listen…”

 

 

It had been anything but easy getting out of the Embassy without being seen, especially with the heightened security and the various law enforcement personnel still bumbling around looking for clues. Selik knew that if they—or Sarek—caught him leaving the compound, they’d almost certainly realize it was related to Jim and that perhaps Frank Carlson had contacted Selik directly—just as he’d actually done. But Carlson had been clear about what would happen if Selik divulged to anyone—the authorities or anyone from the Vulcan Embassy—details regarding the meeting that had been set up. Selik knew he’d have to take the chance of being able to get Jim back on his own.

Fortunately, another James Kirk had spent years teaching another Spock how to stealthily remove himself from virtually any environment, and it wasn’t like someone had a guard on him, so when darkness fell, Selik slipped through the gaps and made his way to the small building a half-block from the Embassy where his air car was garaged. He needed to hurry if he was to be on time—and he must be on time.

 

Jim sat in the corner of the small, dank basement room, huddled as far away as he could get from Frankcarlson, who was pacing the room and muttering to himself. Jim didn’t like it here; it was cold and damp, and Frankcarlson was scary and mean. He’d already yanked Jim’s arm when he’d dragged him from the car and then slapped him when he’d cried out. Now there was a bruise on Jim’s arm and one on his cheek. But worse than that was the fact that Jim didn’t want to be with Frankcarlson; he wanted to go home to Sarek and ‘Manda and bad fluff and Spocky—and sa-mekh. Jim wanted sa-mekh so badly that just the thought of it made his chest burn and his eyes water. But Jim knew he had to be brave because sa-mekh would want him to be—and if he cried, Frankcarlson would probably slap him again. So Jim squeezed back into his corner, wrapping his arms around his knees, and tried not to cry as Frankcarlson kept pacing back and forth, muttering things that Jim didn’t really understand—but that sounded really bad.

“That old fucker better get here soon…if he fucks around with me I’ll sell this little shit so far out in Orion territory that even a starship won’t be able to find him….Ha! Little Jimmy Kirk, son of the dead heroes, sucking alien cock for the rest of his short life until he’s used up and dies from some STD; yeah, I ought to do just that, even if the old fucker does come up with the money, I ought to…”

There was a single knock on the door. Frank froze in his tracks before spinning around and glaring at Jim, his look so frightful that Jim shrank further into his corner, shivering. In two steps, Frank was at the door, weapon loose in his hand.

“Yeah?”

“It is I,” a low voice said, and Frank flipped the lock and pulled open the door as Selik stepped inside.

“Sa-mekh!” Jim got to his feet and would have run to Selik, but Frank was between the two of them and he swung around and backhanded Jim once more.

“Get back in that corner and don’t move, you little shit!” he snarled. Jim, holding his cheek, too scared to cry, backed away, pressing his back to the wall but keeping his eyes on Selik. Surely sa-mekh would make the bad Frankcarlson go away now!

“All right,” Selik said, keeping his voice calm and his expression as “stone-faced” as his dear friend Leonard McCoy had once accused him of. “I am here, and I am unarmed and alone, as promised.” He spread his hands wide. “I have also brought what you asked for.” Slowly, very slowly, he reached for the strap of the bag he had slung across his body, lifting the strap over his head and hold out the bag to Frank.

“Open it,” he said. “There’s two million Federation credits in diamonds, along with a portable scanner so you can be certain they are real. Take them and go, and I will take Jim home.”

Jim edged out into the room. “Can I…can I go home now?” he whispered pleadingly, but Frankcarlson only waved his weapon in Jim’s direction and Jim shrank back once more.

Frank opened the bag, lifting out the small scanner and seeing the gleam of diamonds underneath. “Okay,” he said. “I’m gonna check these out. I don’t trust you, old man, even when it comes to this little brat.” He reached into the bag and pulled out one of the stones, placing on the scanner’s screen, which remained blank. Frank frowned at it, punching a couple of buttons, but nothing happened. He looked up at Selik, flushed with anger.

“This fucking piece of tin doesn’t work!”

“I am certain it does; I tested it before I came. Let me examine it.” Selik took a step forward, another, and as Frank held out the scanner, Selik took it with his left hand—as his right hand settle on Frank’s neck. A moment later, a dull “Thud!” indicated that the Vulcan nerve pinch was not a lost art in Selik’s case.

“Sa-mekh!” Jim knew it was okay now; Frankcarlson was on the ground with his eyes closed, and his weapon was kicked across the room by an old but still agile foot. “Sa-mekh!” Selik knelt down as Jim ran into his embrace, the boy throwing his arms around Selik’s neck and bursting into tears.

“Shhh,” Selik soothed, holding Jim close, patting the small back and stroking the shining gold hair. “It is all right, kan-bu. You are safe now. You were very brave, and now you are safe. Shhh.” He comforted Jim until the sobs died away, and then Jim lifted his head.

“Can we go home now?” he quavered.

Selik spared one look for the festering heap of pustulence lying on the floor. He knew he should open his link and call the authorities, should have them come and arrest Frank Carlson—but he had no intention of ever letting this animal touch Jim again. Prisons can b escaped from; who knew that better than Selik? There was only one way to ensure that Jim would be safe from Frank Carlson. Selik knew some might consider it illogical, but his logic had never been perfect where Jim was concerned.

Selik gently set Jim down. “Go outside, kan-bu,” he said quietly. “Go up the stairs and get into my air car; it is waiting. I have a quick…task to do, and then I will join you and we will go home.”

“No.” The word was softly spoken but it echoed through the room.

“Sarek!” Jim ran to the doorway and threw his arms around Sarek’s knees, fiercely hugging his second-favorite person in the room. Sarek knelt down and hugged Jim in return.

“Sarek,” Selik said, feeling astonished for the first time in a very long time.

“You did not think I would let you go alone?” Sarek asked him. “I had been watching and waiting ever since Jim went missing. It was only logical that Carlson would try to obtain a ransom.” He patted Jim’s head gently.

“James, you and Selik should go now,” he said. He too spared a look for the unconscious human on the floor and it was every bit as cold a gaze as Selik’s. “I will take care of the task Selik planned to do, since I am in agreement with his goals. He should take you home right away and not make you wait.”

That sounded good to Jim. Over his head, two pairs of ink-black eyes met unwaveringly.

“I cannot allow you to do this,” Selik said at last. “Jim is my son; the task falls upon me.”

“James is my son as well through his bond with Spock,” Sarek replied calmly. One eyebrow rose slightly. “And logically, I am the only one with diplomatic immunity.”

There was a moment’s silence, and then Selik bowed his head. “Agreed,” he murmured. He gathered up the bag full of lab-created diamonds and the tampered-with scanner and crossed to the doorway, picking Jim up in his arms.

“Come kan-bu,” he said tenderly. “Let us go home.”

 

“Spocky!”

Jim ran into the living room, almost tripping and falling over the rug, but he didn’t have to run far. Spock got off the couch and met him as Jim threw his arms around him, squeezing hard.

“I’m so glad I’m home,” Jim said. “I missed you so much, Spocky.”

Slowly, Spock’s arms came around Jim as well. “I missed you as well, t’hy’la,” he whispered. “I missed you as well.”


	13. Precautions and Pets

Having polished off a bowl of noodle soup, two sandwiches, and a big glass of milk, Jim ate another cookie—his seventh, but for this one night, neither Selik nor Amanda cared to stop him. Jim was sooo hungry, and everything tasted sooo good—but he was also exhausted, and the small body swayed in the kitchen chair. Selik reached over and picked up his son.

“You need rest, kan-bu,” he said tenderly, but instantly the blue eyes were opened wide, and Jim dropped the rest of the final cookies and he threw his arms around Selik’s neck in a death grip, the little body trembling like an aspen leaf in a high wind.

“No, sa-mekh! If I go to bed, Frankcarlson will come and get me again.” Jim gave a sobbing hiccup.

“No,” Selik soothed him. ‘Frank Carlson will never come here again, k’diwa. But for tonight, we will not concern ourselves with a bed.” He carried Jim into the family living room and settled in front of the fire on the overstuffed brown velvet couch. Amanda, ever alert to the needs of her family, brought a warm afghan, which Selik wrapped around Jim as his son lay in his embrace. Spock, who hadn’t been more than a few feet from Jim since he’d returned, crawled up onto the couch and laid his head on Selik’s lap, reaching up one hand and tangling his fingers with Jim’s. Selik could feel Jim’s body relax, and he pressed a kiss to his temple.

“Go to sleep, dear one,” Selik murmured. “You are not alone. You are quite safe.”

With a sigh, Jim laid his head on Selik’s shoulder and as is often typical with children, fell asleep almost at once. Spock, still holding onto Jim’s hand, soon dropped off as well. Amanda tiptoed in once more with a second blanket, which she laid over Spock and Selik, arranging it carefully so Spock’s nose just peeked out of the folds. Then, much to Selik’s surprise, she bent and brushed a kiss across the old Vulcan’s brow.

“Don’t stay awake all night,” she said softly. “What you told Jim is true. He is quite safe—now. Good night.” She left Selik and the boys. Despite her words, the elder Vulcan stayed awake for three point two hours, wondering if he had done the right thing by leaving Sarek to…deal with…Frank Carlson. Finally, however, the combination of danger, relief, and age proved to be too strong, and Selik fell asleep as well with Jim still in his embrace.

 

After a good night’s sleep, Jim was much calmer. He was still hungry, so Selik let Amanda sleep and took Jim and Spock into the kitchen, making pancakes and applesauce for Spock, and pancakes, applesauce, and bacon for Jim (and for Skittles, who cared nothing for pancakes or applesauce but was very fond of bacon).

“Frankcarlson didn’t give me nothing to eat, not even animal crackers.” Jim started in on a fresh stack of pancakes. “And he…he hit me, too. And I wasn’t even naughty.”

“I am sorry, kan-bu.” Selik sat down on the bench next to his son and hugged him, gently kissing the bruised cheek. “You should never be struck, even if you are naughty. Frank Carlson had no right to hurt you.”

“I do not view Frank Carlson favorably,” Spock piped up, and Jim giggled.

“You goof; just say you don’t like him. Here, bad fluff.” Jim gave Skittles another bite of bacon, giggling as the sandpaper tongue licked his fingers. But then his laughter died, and he looked up at Selik, the blue eyes filling with tears once more.

“Sa-mekh, are you sure Frankcarlson won’t get me again?” he quavered. “What about when I go to school or to the park or…”

“Frank Carlson will never bother you again, my son.” The deep voice spoke from the kitchen doorway. “I can promise that on my own life.”

“Sarek!” Jim tumbled off the kitchen chair and ran across the room to hug Sarek’s legs once more. “You came to find me and sa-mekh!”

“I did indeed, kan-bu.” Sarek patted the small golden head.

“I heard what you asked Selik, my son,” he said quietly. “I can assure you, Frank Carlson will never threaten or abuse you again. I give you my word.”

The small face lit up. “You promise?”

“I do, and I always keep my promises.” Sarek looked over at Spock.

“I think that today you and Jim should stay home from school and rest,” he suggested. “Perhaps you would like to go to your playroom?”

Spock hopped off his chair. “Come, Jim,” he said. “We will work on the new model starship we started.”

“Okay.” Jim gave Sarek’s kneecaps a final squeeze. “I love you, Sarak.” With that, he scampered from the room, following Spock. Selik waited until he was absolutely sure they were out of earshot and then drew a deep breath.

“He is…dead?”

“No.” Sarek moved across the room and sat down at the kitchen table, looking at Selik.

“I could not take a life,” Sarek said quietly, “not even a life that would frankly be no loss to the universe.”

“I can understand that,” Selik acknowledged, “but you told Jim Frank Carlson would never again threaten him.”

“And he will not.” Sarek paused for a moment. “What I did, I suppose, could in some ways be considered more of a crime than death.”

Selik raised a brow. “You castrated him?”

Sarek’s mouth twitched ever so slightly. “A pleasant option—but no. While he was unconscious, I probed his mind.” Now Sarek looked somewhat embarrassed. “It was a violation, of course…”

But less of one than killing would have been,” Selik pointed out.

“Indeed, and I believed that the cause was sufficient,” Sarek replied. “I explored his mind thoroughly—like swimming in a cesspool, I can assure you—and I removed all traces of memories associated with James, you, or anyone else that could possibly provide a link for Carlson’s fetid brain to fasten upon. I assure you, the results were quite effective.”

“I do not doubt that,” Selik replied, thinking of a time, so long ago, when he had bent over his sleeping t’hy’la and removed all memory the doomed Rayna.

“So, when Frank Carlson regained consciousness, he no doubt had no clue regarding what had happened. He most probably picked himself up off the floor and went out to find someone to mug.”

Sarek sighed. “No doubt,” he replied. “Perhaps we should have called the authorities and had him arrested, but I am concerned about James and his feelings of danger. I prefer that Frank Carlson be out of his life forever.”

“I agree,” Selik replied. “And I am deeply grateful, Sarek. I realize that what you did is against every ethical consideration we hold dear.”

“True—but James is my son as well.” For an instant, Selik saw the glimpse of an ancient Vulcan warrior in Sarek’s eyes. “Whatever needs to be done to protect him—as I said, the cause was sufficient.”

 

Spock and Jim were in the playroom, all of the pieces of the new Lego Starship Constellation spread out on the rug around them. If Spock had been working on the project, of course, all the pieces would have been sorted, grouped, and prioritized in terms of the project’s needs. However, Spock had long since resigned himself to the fact that when it came to play of any kind, Jim was a non-linear thinker.

“Jim, may I ask you a question?”

“Sure, Spocky—bad fluff, no!” Jim grabbed one of the pieces of the nacelles, which was currently being batted across the floor by Skittles. “What is it?” he asked, looking curiously at his best friend in the universe.

Spock took a deep breath. “When Frank Carlson abducted you…why did you not call for help? My father would have heard you, so would to’zot Selik. Even I would have heard if you had cried out.”

“I know.” Jim scooted across the carpet to get closer to his friend. “Frankcarlson told me that if I made any noise, he would hurt you bad, Spocky,” he said in a low voice. “I…I was really scared and I wanted to cry out for sa-mekh, but….but I couldn’t let Frankcarlson hurt you; I couldn’t.” Jim was shaking now, remembering those terrible moments.

“Oh, t’hy’la.” For a moment, Spock felt helpless, but then he knew what to do. He moved closer as well, and put one arm around Jim’s shoulders.

“Please, Jim. If you are ever in danger again, make noise,” he said. “If you went away forever….” Spock swallowed hard, not sure how to articulate the terrible ache inside. “I could not ever be happy again. Promise me you will call for help.” The big brown eyes looked at Jim, pleading.

“M’kay.” Jim hugged him. “I want you to be happy, Spocky. But it’s okay. Frankcarlson will never hurt me again. Your daddy promised.”

 

Over the next week or so, matters returned to normal. Jim and Spock went to school once more, shadowed by a private guard that Sarek hired, more to make Jim feel confident than because Sarek was afraid that there might be another incident. He had employed his extensive contacts in law enforcement and at Space Dock and had learned that Frank Carlson had shipped out on a freighter the day after Jim had been rescued. He was halfway to the Deneb System by this time.

Sarek also consulted with the Embassy’s security and put better measures into effect, especially after dark. Just because Frank Carlson was no longer a threat, that didn’t mean that there couldn’t be another unbalanced person trying to get access to the Embassy, the Ambassador, or his family. Sarek resolved never to let that happen again.

Once his bruises faded and he realized that Frank would never come near him again, Jim’s spirits and confidence rebounded. He loved school, absorbing everything he was taught with effortless enthusiasm and making many friends, even though “Spocky” was still his number one priority. Sarek and Amanda never had to worry about their son feeling left out in the largely human classroom, not as long as Jim was there.

On weekends, Selik took the boys on trips all over California. The old Vulcan was privately amazed at how much of San Francisco, the valley, and other areas of the region had stayed the same from one dimension to another. Even Disneyland still existed, mouse ears and all. Sarek flatly refused to subject himself to “the happiest place on Earth,” so Selik and Amanda took the boys for their first experience of an amusement park. Jim, of course, almost wore them out before the day was over. When they finally returned home that evening, Jim proudly presented Sarek with a Mickey Mouse hat with his name embroidered on it.

“We all got them; I didn’t want you to feel left out,” Jim explained earnestly. Sarek could see everyone else had a similar hat; they were all wearing them, even Selik (who Sarek had assumed had better taste than that). Catching a stern look from his wife, Sarek put on the hat with the best grace he could muster. Jim clapped his hands.

“Now we need a picture of all of us with our hats!” Jim chirped.

The image in question was taken—and buried very deep in Sarek’s computer, under several passwords. Not that it helped; Selik still resurrected it and had it printed on sweatshirts for the whole family at Christmas.

 

One afternoon, about six weeks after Jim had been rescued from Frank, he skipped home from school, Spock at his side. Jim was very excited, because at breakfast time, Selik had indicated that when the boys returned home from school that day, there would be a surprise waiting at the house. He refused to give any real hints as to what the surprise was, simply telling Jim and Spock that it had come from a long way away and that Spock and Jim would have to share it and learn to care for it. Sharing was no problem; they shared everything. But Spock wondered what kind of gift had to be cared for.

Jim was convinced it was a giraffe. He loved giraffes.

“Jim, giraffes only live in wildlife preserves,” Spock pointed out logically. “I do not think it is legal to have one at the Vulcan Embassy.”

“But Sarek can do anything,” Jim proclaimed.

“I do not think he can do that,” Spock replied dubiously. Jim just stuck his tongue out at him.

“Come on! Let’s run!” Jim took off down the street, and Spock followed. He would not have admitted it, but he too was—anxious—to see this new gift. He did hope, however, that it was not a giraffe. They seemed so fragile with their long necks and spindly legs.

 

“There you are.” Selik looked up from his padd as Jim literally bounced into the living room, Spock right behind him. Selik glanced at the chronometer. “And early, I see,” he said with his eyes twinkling.

“Sa-mekh! Sa-mekh! Is it here? Did it come?” Jim danced around his father.

“Yes, the gift is here. Come. Amanda and Sarek are waiting with it.”

“Goody.” Jim scooped up Skittles, who had wandered into the room in hopes of sharing Jim’s after-school snack.

“Come on, bad fluff! Come on, Spocky. Let’s go see!”

 

Jim and Spock stood in the back garden behind the gazebo, staring at the creature that was occupying a large enclosure with a roofed shelter. Jim stared at the new arrival. It was not a giraffe.

“What is it?” he asked, staying close to Selik. The animal was very big. Selik opened his mouth to answer, but Spock beat him to it.”

“It is a sehlat, Jim.” Totally unafraid, Spock walked right up to the enclosure and opened the gate. The giant brown furry mass loped out and sniffed Spock from head to foot before making a “woof” sound and licking Spock’s ear. Amanda, standing near Jim, put a hand on his shoulder.

“It’s all right, sweetheart,” she said. “A sehlat is very friendly and very protective of its family. They are also quite smart. We told I-Chaya all about you two and gave him your shirts to sniff so he would know you. He will love and protect you for as long as he lives.”

“He will?” Jim was wide-eyed. This was almost better than a giraffe.

“He will, kan-bu,” Selik assured his son. “I had a pet sehlat when I was your age, and he was a most faithful friend and companion.”

“Cool!” Emboldened by the fact that the bear hadn’t tried to eat Spock, Jim put down Skittles and edged closer, receiving the same sniff and lick treatment. He reached out to pet the shaggy brown mass, and I-Chaya huffed happily. The adults watched in satisfaction—and then an orange blur flew through the air and landed on the mountain of cinnamon-colored fur.

“Skittles!” Amanda cried out, and Jim tried to reach for his pet, but the orange ball of fluff was already kneading the back of I-Chaya’s neck, purring loudly. The sehlat sat down with a “thump, and Skittles climbed off his back and onto his lap, settling in for a nap as Jim and Spock cuddled up to their new pet.

“Well,” Sarek said, putting an arm around Amanda, “I think we can leave them alone to get acquainted.” And so they did.

Jim and Spock skipped dinner that night, and they had to be picked up and carried into bed after they had fallen asleep on top of a mountain of brown fur, Skittles tucked under Jim’s chin.


	14. Seeds of Doubts

The after-effects of Frank Carlson's abduction of Jim continue.

In the months following the incident with Frank Carlson, everything seemed to go back to normal. Sarek took care of his obligations as the Vulcan Ambassador. Amanda managed the household and the Embassy’s extensive social obligations, as well as agreeing to serve as an adjunct instructor at Starfleet Academy, offering a class in Modern Spoken Vulcan and one in Vulcan literature. Amanda loved to teach, so any time she got an opportunity to do so, she gladly took it.

Selik continued to teach online, and since his schedule was the most flexible of any adult’s in the household, he also took on the responsibility of much of Jim and Spock’s day-to-day routine care. He checked each morning to make sure the boys awakened on time—no great chore, since Jim loved his Batman alarm clock, and Spock had the internal clock common to his people. He prepared their breakfast, assisted them in getting dressed if needed (although again, both boys were highly independent and seldom needed help with anything except perhaps a button in the back of an outfit), and then either walked them to school or took them in the Embassy’s air car. At the end of the day, he picked them up. Since the Frank Carlson crisis, Selik was unwilling to let the boys come home along, although he realized that eventually, when they were older, it would be important to allow the boys more freedom and responsibilities in order for them to grow. But not yet, not now. Not so soon after the threat that had almost snatched Jim away from him.

Frequently, Selik and the boys went shopping in Chinatown after school, assigned to bring home the best produce or the perfect spices for Amanda and the embassy’s cook to use. Spock was politely interested in these shopping trips, but Selik suspected that he only went along willingly because he loved spending time with Jim whatever the occasion. Jim and Selik, on the other hand, genuinely enjoyed these excursions. Indeed, Jim was beginning to hang around the family kitchen whenever possible, helping Amanda with meal prep and learning how to bake.

Of course, Jim and Spock took care of I-Chaya each day, and Jim was very conscientious in scooping out Skittles’ litter box and making sure he had food and water. The feline had bonded with the sehlat and now spent most of his time in I-Chaya’s enclosure. Jim and Spock played there nearly every evening after supper, and Skittles only left his furry friend when it was bedtime, so he could come into the house and sleep at the foot of Jim’s bed. After a few nights when dreams about “Frankcarlson” disturbed Jim’s sleep, his fears gradually abated and he slept peacefully, as did Spock, who crept into Jim’s bed most nights, wanting to be near his t’hy’la. On the surface, everything seemed just fine.

And yet…there was something wrong. Selik knew it with utter certainty. He’d loved two James Kirks, and he knew the signs of trouble. Jim was unhappy about something, and yet, unusually, he would not speak of his pain. Selik had tried to gently coax him into talking about it, but Jim, who had always been so open to his sa-mekh, was suddenly and strangely reluctant to admit that anything was bothering him, let alone talk about what it was. He insisted that he was no longer afraid that “Frankcarlson” would kidnap him again, but there was a faint shadow of unhappiness in Jim’s eyes now, no matter what he was doing, and Selik longed with all his heart to make that shadow go away.

 

It was a Monday morning. Jim and Spock’s school was conducting some sort of in-service for its instructors, so there were no classes. As a treat, Amanda had decided to take Spock for lunch at her parents’ home in Toronto; they had left on a shuttle at dawn. Sarek was already in his office, so Jim and Selik had the kitchen to themselves, and Selik was making his child’s favorite waffles for breakfast.

“Here you are, kan-bu.” Seik set the plate of waffles down in front of Jim, mentally ignoring the number of grams of sugar represented by the raspberry preserves and whipped cream that covered them.

“Thank you, sa-mekh.” Jim picked up his fork and poked at the waffles, but he didn’t make much of a dent in the serving, not even after ten minutes of trying. Selik turned off the waffle maker and wiped his hands before gently booting the feline off the kitchen bench and sitting down next to Jim. He put his arm around the small shoulders.

“Jim,” he said tenderly, “I know you are sad or perhaps worried. Will you not tell me? I wish to help, kan-bu. I do not like to see you so very sad.” He hugged Jim close, feeling the small body shake and Jim fought not to cry.

“You…you will be mad at me, sa-mkh,” Jim whispered.

“Oh, my sweet kan-bu.” Selik decided breakfast could wait. He picked Jim up in his arms and carried him across the room to the sunny nook that was formed by the bay window that looked out into the garden. Amanda had placed two woven rattan rocking chairs there, and Selik sat down in one as Jim buried his face in Selik’s shoulder. The elderly Vulcan rocked them, smoothing his hand over the tumbled blonde hair.

“Jim,” Selik said gently. “You are my dearly loved son. Whatever is wrong, I will not be angry with you. If something unfortunate has happened, and you are afraid of being punished, we will discuss the transgression and come to an agreement on how to handle it.” Privately, Selik could not think of any naughtiness Jim could have perpetrated that would lead to this degree of distress.

“If someone is hurting you, I need to know that. If you are afraid of something, I will make it go away. Please, kan-bu. Tell me what is wrong.”

Jim was silent for a long moment, and then he sighed. “Sa-mekh, Frankcarslon, he…he said you ‘dopted me cuz I have lots of money,” he whispered at last. “He said that was the only reason he wanted me…and it was why you want me, too.”

“Oh, Jim.” Selik bent his head and kissed the crown of Jim’s head.

“That is not true at all,” he told his son. “You do have some funds in an account, but it has nothing to do with why I adopted you. Those monies will remain in a bank, where they are now, until you are 18 years of age. Then they will become yours, to do with as you like. I will never take a penny from you.”

“But then…why did you ‘dopt me?”

“I adopted you because I love you,” Selik replied softly. “From the very first time I saw you, I loved you, and I knew I wanted to take care of you as you grew. I wanted us to have a home with sunshine and waffles and an orange cat. Later, I was glad we became part of Sarek’s family, because know you have more people to love and care for you, even if something would happen to me.”

Jim lifted his flushed face from Selik’s shoulder. “Happen to you?” The big eyes were full of worry.

“If I were to get sick or…if I were no longer here to take care of you,” Selik explained gently. “If that happened, Sarek and Amanda would be your guardians. They would make sure you grow up safe and happy.”

“But…but I don’t want you to go ‘way.” Jim lip was quivering now, and his eyes were shining with tears. Selik silently cursed himself for introducing this topic—but it needed to be addressed. He hugged his son close one more.

“I do not intend to leave you, my treasure,” he whispered. “But I would be a poor father if I did nothing to protect you. That is why I long ago asked Sarek to care for you if I could not. It does not mean that I plan to leave you.”

Jim was silent for long moments, and Selik was quiet, too. He rocked Jim in his arms and let him think.

“Frankcarlson…he said my mommy and daddy went away cuz…cuz they didn’t want me,” Jim said at last in a low voice. “Is that true, sa-mekh?"

“No,” Selik replied firmly. “Frank Carlson is what is called a pathological liar, my kan-bu. He cannot tell the truth, no matter what. Your father died because he was serving on a starship, protecting the people of the Federation from evil forces. He was a hero, Jim, a great man, but I know he would have given that up if he could have, would have rather come back to Earth and be with you.”

“But, my mommy?” Jim quavered. “How come she didn’t stay with me? Frankcarlson said that if she loved me, she would have stayed.”

Seik sighed. He had never told Jim much about his mother’s death, not wanting to sadden the child or burden him with knowledge to great for his years. He silently damned Frank Carlson to Vulcan’s frozen hells for planting these thoughts in the child’s mind—but they thoughts were there; they must be addressed.

“Jim, your mother wanted to stay with you,” he said surely. “But she was tired and sick—and she was very sad because your father was gone. She tried so hard to stay with you, but…she died, as we all will die one day, but she died before she had a chance to live a full life, to see you grow, to love you the way she wanted. It is a sadness, small one, but it is not because of you. Sometimes, no matter how hard we try, sad and bad events occur. I cannot bring back your mother or father. All I can do is love and care for you as they would have—and I will, just as Sarek and Amanda will as well.”

“Oh.” Jim was silent again for a long time. “It’s not fair,” he whispered at last.

“No,” Selik replied softly. “It is not. The universe is a beautiful place, kan-bu, full of wonders. But it is not always a fair place.”

“Oh.” Jim was once again silent, obviously thinking. Finally, he squirmed around in Selik’s embrace and wrapped his arms around his father’s neck.

“Frankcarlson is a path of logical liar.”

“Yes, close enough,” Selik said.

“You love me cuz I’m me.”

“Yes, I do,” Selik agreed solemnly.

“My mommy and daddy wanted to stay with me, but they couldn’t.”

“Yes,” Selik replied quietly. “That is true, too.”

“Okay.” Jim hugged Selik hard, kissing him on the cheek.

“I’m sorry I believed Frankcarlson, sa-mekh,” he said. “He is a poop-head.”

“That is one word for him,” Selik agreed. He pulled Jim to him, laying his cheek against his son’s.

“I will always love you,” he murmured. “I will fight to be here with you forever, and I will never again let anyone hurt you, Jim. I promise.”

“Okay.” Jim gave him a last squeeze and then leaned back, a smile on his face.

“Can we make more waffles, sa-mekh?”

“Indeed,” Selik replied, his eyes smiling. “That is exactly what we will do.”

And they did. They even made bacon for Skittles.


	15. Growing Pains

“First grade! First grade!” More or less dressed in his new blue plaid shirt and short jeans (his shirt tail was out, he only had on one sock and his hair was a mess), Jim danced around Spock’s room while Spock carefully dressed in his two-piece thermal undergarments, a par of long black pants, and a warm, cream-color cable-knit sweater. (The school’s environmental controls were set for humanoids who had a preference for cooler temperatures than those Spock found acceptable, and he was not yet old enough to reliably regulate his body temperature as his father was able to do. That was an ability that developed with puberty).

Spock moved over to the small dressing table in the corner and combed his hair, freshly cut for the first day of school. From his vantage point, he could watch his th’y’la in the mirror, enjoying as he always did the sight of Jim being happy.

“I do not understand why you are so excited, Jim. We are merely returning to the same school we attended last year.”

Jim managed to keep dancing and roll his eyes at the same time. “But Spocky, this is first grade. We’re not kindergarten babies anymore. We won’t have to take naps! And we’ll have a new teacher, and we can make more friends, and we can learn new things every day! Whee!” Jim spun around, laughing, and then dropped into a beanbag chair.

Spock sighed faintly. “We could learn new information here at home,” he said to his shoes. After one year in school, Spock was still not sold on the idea. However, he did not want to be separated from his other half, and both his parents and Selik continued to insist that school was a good idea. Spock was therefore resigned, if not as enthusiastic as Jim was.

“Good morning, children.” Selik stood in the doorway, and Jim launched himself out of the beanbag like a rocket to Jupiter.

“Good morning, sa-mekh!” He hugged Selik’s knees. “We’re going to first grade today!”

Selik gently loosened Jim’s grip and knelt so they were eye to eye. “I am aware of that, kan-bu.” His eyes smiled into Jim’s. “However, we must first make sure you are as stylish and well put-together as Spock is.” Clever fingers tucked in Jim’s shirt and smoothed down the golden curls. Selik looked around the room. “You appear to be missing a sock.”

“Here it is, to’zat.” Spock dug out a sock from beneath the rump of an orange cat curled up on the bed.

“Thank you, Spock.” Selik took the sock, making himself ignore the cat hair on it. Jim would not mind, and there was probably not time to dig through his rather unorganized dresser drawers to find another pair of matching socks that went with his outfit. Selik made a mental note to spend a small amount of time this afternoon sorting the contents of his dresser drawers. Yes, Jim should be doing that himself, but supervising Jim while he did it took 4.6 times as long, and Jim was more than willing to help with other household chores—the ones that did not bore him to distraction. For just a moment, Selik remembered the days when he had to re-arrange a certain captain’s sock drawer, and he smiled within at the gentle memory. He captured the small foot waving in the air and put the sock on Jim’s foot.

“Now, kan-bu, where are your new shoes?”

Jim bounced up and over to his closet, digging inside until he found his new “Starship” brand sneakers. The ships printed on these shoes were almost cartoonish in their depiction, but then, Jim was only seven years old. He plopped down in his beanbag chair and tugged on his shoes, then bounded to his feet once more.

“Time for first grade!”

“After your hair is combed—and after breakfast,” Selik said firmly. “Amanda is already in the kitchen.”

“Waffles!” Jim shouted gleefully. “Come on, Spocky!” With that he was out the door and down the hall, his shirt untucking itself almost like magic. Selik watched him go, fondness in every line of his face, and then he turned back to Spock, who was still slowly combing his hair. Selik knew a delaying tactic when he saw one. He swiftly crossed the room and knelt down next to his small self.

“You do not seem enthused about the new school year, small one,” he said gently.

Spock swallowed, looking down at the carpet. “I just want to stay home with Jim,” he whispered. “It is peaceful here.”

“I understand,” Selik replied quietly. “The familiar is safe and comforting, and the unknown can sometimes be a challenge.”

“But…but Jim likes it.”

“He does,” Selik acknowledged. “And because you love him, you wish to enjoy everything that Jim does.”

Spock nodded vigorously.

“It is not necessary that you do so,” Selik assured him. “As you grow older, you will discover that you do not need to agree with those you love on every point of existence. Jim is human, and he is a very social individual, as many humans are. You are more reserved, as is true for many Vulcans. Neither personality trait is wrong. You will still be Jim’s favorite companion even if he enjoys the comradery of his classmates.”

Spock thought about that for a moment. “Very well,” he said. He looked at Selik, face brightening. “Does that mean I no longer have to go to school, since Jim can go and enjoy it and still be my friend?”

“No, I am afraid you still have to go to school.” Selik put an arm around Spock and gave him a brief hug. “I know it is difficult to understand now, small one, but there is more to school life than simply the acquisition of formal knowledge. You are quite correct; you could get all that at home. However, going to school and learning to interact with very different individuals will be invaluable to you someday. In this instance you must trust that your parents are doing what is best for you.”

Spock sighed, but he was nothing if not obedient. “I will remember your words, to’zot.”

“Come.” Selik rose to his feet. “We had best hurry before Jim eats all the waffles.”

“That is illogical,” Spock said solemnly. “My mother can always prepare more batter.”

“You are quite right,” Selik replied seriously. “Where is my logic?”

Spock turned towards the door. “We would not want them to get cold, however.”

“Indeed not.” Amused, Selik followed his small self to the kitchen.

 

“So, boys,” Amanda said that night at the dinner table, “how do you like first grade?”

“It is adequate,” Spock replied, helping himself to several carrot sticks. “The classroom possesses an impressive aquarium. I counted 19 separate species of aquatic life.”

Jim was all but bouncing up and down in his chair, obviously excited, so Amanda turned to him with an indulgent smile.

“What about you, dear?” she asked. “Did you count the fish in the aquarium, too?”

Jim made a face. The only fish he was interested in was fish sticks. “Nope,” he said cheerfully. “I let Spocky do it. I wanted to be with Miss Linda.”

Sarek raised an eyebrow. “And who is Miss Linda?”

“She’s our new teaching sister—I think.” Jim frowned slightly. “No, maybe that’s not right.”

“Teaching assistant,” Spock corrected him gently. “Because our class has many students, father, our teacher Ms. D’Junga has an assistant. Her name is Linda Cummings, but we are allowed to call her Miss Linda.”

“Ah, I see. And you like her, James?”

“Yes!” Jim replied emphatically. “She’s really pretty and really nice, like Manda is. And when I grow up, I’m going to marry her! She’s lots older than me but I told her I didn’t mind, and she laughed.”

Amanda chuckled, but then she stopped, seeing Spock’s face. Selik had also caught the stricken look in Spock’s eyes, and he quickly changed the subject.

“So, kan-bu, where shall we go on our hike this weekend?”

“To the redwood trees,” Jim replied with a happy smile. “I love them; they’re so big and green.”

 

It was very late. Jim and Spock had gone to bed at 8 p.m., as sa-mekh insisted that they needed to in order to be fresh for school the next day. Jim had fallen asleep quickly, but after several hours, he woke up, realizing he needed to go pee. He slipped out of his bed and padded into the bathroom, remembering to wash his hands afterwards. He was going to go back to his own room—but then he heard the soft sounds coming from Spock’s room on the other side of their shared quarters. So Jim slipped into Spock’s room and stood listening. His stomach got a funny feel in it. Spock was crying…almost silently, but he was definitely crying. Jim hurried over to Spock’s bed.

“Spocky,” he whispered, laying his hand on Spock’s shoulder. “Spocky, why are you crying?”

Spock rolled away from Jim’s hand. “I am not….sniff…crying.”

“Yes, you are.” Jim sat down on the bed. “What’s wrong, Spocky? Tell me. I always tell you when I’m sad.”

There was a long moment of silence, broken only by the occasional sniffle. Then Spock rolled over, looking at Jim. Even in the dim light of the night light, Jim could see he’d been crying for a while.

“You…you want to marry Miss Linda,” Spock said at last.

“Yeah,” Jim said, bewildered. “But not until I’m old enough—maybe 10. I don’t know how old I have to be to get married.”

“But…but you will leave me.” Spock, having two parents and clan, had seen many more couples making vows than Jim had, and he knew that once a couple was married or bonded, they moved away from the rest of the family.

Jim blinked. He hadn’t thought of that. “But…I can bring you with me,” he said with a sudden burst of inspiration. “Miss Linda won’t mind.”

Spock considered that for a moment. “Are you certain?”

Jim wasn’t 100% sure, but he wasn’t going to make Spocky cry again. “Sure I am,” he said cheerfully. He got up and pulled back the blankets. “Can I stay here with you tonight?” he asked. “I don’t want you to be sad no more.”

Spock felt relief wash over him. “Yes,” he said. “You may stay.”

“Good.” Jim got into bed and hugged Spocky. “Don’t cry no more,” he said. “I will take you with me wherever I go.”

“All right.” Suddenly exhausted, Spock snuggled down into his blankets. “Good night, Jim.”

“Good night, Spocky.”


	16. Not Totally Reassured

“Father?”

Sarek, working in his office as he often did in the evening, looked up from the trade agreement he was perusing to see his son standing in the doorway.

“Spock?” He glanced at the chronometer on his desk, surprised. “It is nearly ten p.m., my son. Why are you still awake?”

Spock looked down, dragging his toe against the carpet. “May I speak with you, Father?”

“Most certainly.” Sarek closed out his document and rose from his desk to move to the small sofa in the corner, waiting for his son to join him. Spock climbed up onto the sofa, and Sarek put an arm around his child.

“I am surprised you did not ask to speak with me after dinner,” Sarek said. “You know that I would have taken the time.”

Spock shook his head. “I…I wished to wait until Jim was asleep,” he explained.

Sarek raised a brow. “I must therefore assume that this is about Jim, or it is something that you do not want him to know.”

“I want Jim to know everything,” Spock said earnestly. He looked down at his hands. “However, I…am afraid.”

“Afraid of what?”

“I…Jim….he does not understand!” Spock said in a rush. “We are t’hy’la! We belong together. But he wants to marry Miss Linda!”

“Ah.” Sarek thought back to the dinner table conversation of three days ago.

“My child,” he said gently, “have you talked to Jim about this?”

Spock nodded. “He says I can go with him when he marries Miss Linda, but I do not think that is a logical solution.”

Sarek successfully hid a smile. “I agree with you,” he replied gravely. “However, I believe you are letting irrational fears rob you of your rest. Miss Linda is a teaching assistant, and I am certain she has won the adoration of many of her small students. However, I can promise you she will not be marrying any of them. Aside from the age difference, it would be a breach of her conduct as a teacher to encourage such an action.” He felt Spock relax slightly.

“But I do not understand why Jim would even consider it.” Spock objected.

“James is a human child, and they often develop what I believe are called “crushes” on an adult who plays an important role in their lives,” Sarek explained. “This is actually a fairly common phenomenon, but there is no need for you to be distressed. James will outgrow this crush, most likely before the school year even ends.” Sarek did not bother to tell his son that Jim would no doubt develop other crushes. All of life needed to be faced one step at a time.

The small brows drew together in a ferocious frown. “But…Jim does not seem to understand that we are t’hy’la,” he said sadly.

“Kan-bu, James is human,” Sarek said gently. “His intellectual and emotional growth, while exceptional for his age, are not necessarily at the same level as yours. I know that you feel the bond between you, and I know that James recognizes it on some deep level. However, he is not yet ready to understand it for what it is, and that is as it should be. You are both very young.”

“But you once told me that when I turned seven years old, I would be matched, as is the way of our people,” Spock protested. “Jim is already seven.” His lip quivered. “What if…he does not wish to be matched with me?”

Sarek held his son closer. “If you and James are truly t’hy’la, and I believe you when you say that you are, he will find his way,” he assured Spock. “You must simply be patient, and rest assured, James is not going to elope with Miss Linda or anyone else. When the time is right, he will understand. Until then, you must be his brother and his best friend—and wait for the rest to be revealed.”

Spock was silent for a long moment, and then he sighed softly.

“Very well, Father,” he said, resigned. “Your words are wise. I will possess myself with patience.”

Sarek gave his son a hug, realizing that logically, Spock needed reassurance.

“That is a wise decision, kan-bu. In the interim, you should go and get some sleep so you will be fresh for school tomorrow.”

“Very well, Father.” After a second’s hesitation, Spock stretched up and kissed his father’s cheek. “Thank you.”

Sarek felt his heart grow warm—an illogical feeling but one that he illogically savored. “You are very welcome, my son. Good night.”

 

 

Spock slipped silently back into his room, but his efforts at stealth were wasted, as he discovered when he spotted Jim curled up in the center of his bed, Skittles by his side. Even as Spock moved closer, Jim opened his eyes and sat up.

“Spocky?” He rubbed his eyes, peering at Spock in the dim light provided by the Star Wars Lightsaber nightlight.

“Jim, you should not be sleeping on top of the blankets. You will get chilled.” Jim obediently scooted up, and Spock pulled back the covers, slipping beneath them as Jim did so as well. Unfortunately, these actions dislodged Skittles, who loudly made his displeasure known until Jim picked him up and tucked him under the covers as well. The two boys settled into bed, Spock cuddling as close to Jim as the cat between them would permit, feeling some of the coldness within him ease with Jim’s proximity.

“Where were you, Spocky?” Jim muttered sleepily. “I came to find you, and you weren’t here.”

“I had to speak with my father,” Spock replied softly. “I am sorry if you were troubled.”

“It’s ok.” Jim’s hand slid over the cat and found Spock’s, twining their fingers together. “I was just lonesome for you.”

Spock squeezed his hand. “You do not need to be lonesome, Jim—ever. I promise.”

 

By early November, San Francisco was going into its cool and rainy autumn mode—not bad by any means for most humans, but it was more than a bit uncomfortable by Vulcan standards. Amanda made sure that both Jim and Spock had raincoats, boots, umbrellas, and hoods, and she added more sweaters to Spock’s wardrobe. Spock obediently wore all the foul weather gear his mother provided; Jim did everything he could to sneak out of the house without it so he could splash in puddles all along the route to school. His starship sneakers got soaked on more than one occasion, and Selik took to putting a towel in Jim’s backpack, as well as a pair of dry socks, so his teachers could at least towel-dry him before class and make sure his feet were warm and dry.

Despite that fact, it was Spock who got sick.

 

“Spock?” Amanda looked at her son, who was sitting at the dinner table but not eating. “Sweetheart, you haven’t touched your dinner.”

The small body dropped in his chair. “I do not feel… in optimum condition,” Spock replied softly. In a moment, Amanda was out of her chair, bending to press her lips to Spock’s forehead.

“You do feel warm, sweetheart.”

“My wife, this is hardly the scientific way to take a child’s…” Sarek shut up as Amanda nailed him to the chair with a single look. She lifted Spock from his chair into her arms.

“Come on, baby,” she said. “I’ll tuck you into bed and bring you a hot drink. You’ll feel better in the morning, I’m sure.”

“Ok,” Spock whispered. He put his arms around his mother’s neck and let her carry him, something he seldom did now that he was in school and no longer an infant. But his head was swimming, and his throat and chest ached. Once in his room, Amanda got him into his pjs and into bed with motherly efficiency. She tucked the covers tightly up around his neck and bent to kiss him.

“I’ll bet it’s just a cold,” she said cheerfully.

It was pneumonia.

 

By morning, Spock’s temperature was more than 38 degrees Celsius, and he had a racking cough and trouble breathing. Sarek had summoned both a healer and a human pediatrician, and both agreed that Spock could be cared for at home, given the portability of modern health care equipment. Hospitals were used almost exclusively for trauma cases or rare illnesses that needed specialized diagnostic labs. T’Larie, the healer, immediately ordered all the equipment and helped Dr. Jackson the pediatrician set it up and show Amanda and Sarek how to read and adjust the monitors, including the breathing dome they placed over Spock’s bed.

This machine will provide you with a mixture of extra oxygen and medicine for your lungs, young man,” Dr. Jackson told Spock. “You just rest, and Healer T’Larie and I will make you better, ok?”

Spock nodded weakly, and then his eyes closed. The doctor left the room, motioning Sarek and Amanda to follow him.

“We may want to have a nurse come in,” he said quietly, but Amanda shook her head.

“Sarek and I will care for him, at least for now.”

“And I will help if needed.” Selik walked out of his room and joined the group. Healer T’Larie, who had also come into the hall, nodded to both Sarek and Selik.

“If you wish to help care for him, you should both receive booster immunizations to protect against lung infections.”

“Whatever is needed,” Sarek replied and Selik nodded in agreement.

“Indeed. Spock will be most carefully tended.”

 

Over the next two days, the adults in the house divided their time between Spock and Jim. Selik had planned on sharing more of the nursing duties, but Jim was so devastated by Spock’s illness that Amanda urged him to devote most of his time to Jim.

“He needs you,” she said. “Poor little guy. He misses Spock so.”

“I know,” Selik replied with a sigh. “I have explained to him why he needs to stay out of the sickroom. Despite the fact that Dr. Jackson gave him an immunization, he could still get sick if he spends too much time with Spock, and Spock needs to rest. But I fear Jim does not see it that way.”

 

Jim did not see it that way. All of his sa-mekh’s carefully-reasoned arguments meant nothing to him. All he knew is that he was only allowed to see Spocky for a couple of minutes each day, and then only if he stayed in the doorway. It wasn’t fair! It wasn’t right! Spocky needed him.

 

By the evening of the third day, Spock’s temperature was up to 40 degrees Celsius, and the congestion in his lungs was no better. Healer T’Larie and Dr. Jackson, both of whom had come to the house to check on him, were worried.

“I would urge hospitalization, but there is nothing we can do for him there that is not being done here,” T’Larie said. The adults in the household were meeting in Sarek’s office. “It is illogical to worry, but I confess I am beginning to feel that emotion.”

Amanda, exhausted thanks to an almost nonstop vigil, tightened her grip on her husband’s hand. Neither of them spoke of the fear that was lurking in their minds—but each knew what the other was thinking.

Outside the door, a small human was scared as well.

 

It was almost 4 a.m. Selik had insisted that Amanda go to bed at midnight and get some rest.

“I will sit up with Spock,” he said firmly. “You must get some sleep. I promise I will wake you if there is any need.” He nodded to Sarek. “Put her to bed and…sit on her if you must.”

Protesting, Amanda had nonetheless allowed Sarek to take her away, and Selik had settled in for the night. Now, with Spock sleeping (although his breathing was still—alarming), Selik decided to go to the kitchen and make himself some hot tea.

He was unaware that Jim had been waiting all night for just that moment.

 

“Spocky?”

Speck heard the voice, which he knew belonged to someone he loved, but for a moment his fever-flushed brain did not register. Then he recognized the voice, and he made his heavy eyelids open. To see Jim kneel on the bed next to him, beneath his breathing dome.

“Jim,” Spock said, his voice a croak. “You are not supposed to be here.” Spock remembered his mother explaining that Jim needed to stay at a distance so that he too would not become ill.

“I don’t care.” Jim crawled up on the bed until he was lying face-down next to Spock, burying his face in Spock’s shoulder as he put his arm around the small body. “You need me, Spocky, and I’m lonesome without you. I don’t care if I do get sick!”

“But Jim, I do not want you to be ill.”

Jim defiantly cuddled closer. “I don’t care,” he said. “I’m not leaving.”

Somehow, Spock found the strength to curl his arm around Jim’s body. “I do not want you to leave,” he murmured. Amazingly, he could feel his chest congestion easing. With a sigh, he laid his cheek against the top of Jim’s head, feeling the softness of the curls against his skin.

“You go back to sleep, Spocky,” Jim whispered. “I’ll be right here.”

Twenty minutes later, which Selik returned with his tea, he was unsurprised to find Jim and Spock curled up together, both sound asleep. He checked Spock’s vitals, equally unsurprised to find that they were stronger, and his breathing was easier. Even Sarek and Amanda could not truly understand the power of t’hy’la. Selik left the pair in peace.


End file.
